


Say Anything...

by skargasm



Category: Say Anything... (1989), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Films, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 16:02:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 25,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22880407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skargasm/pseuds/skargasm
Summary: To know Stiles Stilinski is to love him. Derek Hale is about to get to know Stiles Stilinski.Stiles Stilinski (an eternal optimist), seeks to capture the heart of Derek, an unattainable high-school hunk and straight-A student. It surprises just about everyone when he returns the sentiment. But Derek’s arrogant and domineering uncle Peter doesn’t approve – Derek is off to England on a hard-won scholarship and love shouldn’t be allowed to interfere.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura
Comments: 22
Kudos: 67





	1. Say Anything...

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on the movie ['Say Anything'](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Say_Anything...) starring John Cusack and Ione Skye.
> 
> * * *
> 
> As per usual, there will be smushing of characters and pairings. Although based on the movie, a lot will have changed as the film is from 1989. This is a WiP and I totally understand if people want to wait until it's finished before reading. At this point in time, I have four chapters which I am proof-reading and editing. 
> 
> The film includes a song from Peter Gabriel called "In Your Eyes" which was my favourite song for a very long time.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story and that I can do the movie justice.
> 
> * * *

[ ](https://imgur.com/4WPVdrE)

* * *


	2. Graduation

**STILES**

”I don’t feel anything.” Erica popped her gum then rolled over on the bed, disturbing Stiles from his starfish position. She looked over at Scott and Lydia as if expecting an answer but Lydia was going through her yearbook, deciding if the comments were acceptable.

“It’s graduation – surely I should feel _something_?!” 

“Mr Harris ridicules my theories all year. Then he writes in my yearbook: _”You’re a real live wire. I have no doubts you’ll be winning many awards in an illustrious career. Love, Mr Harris”._

“He just wants to go on good terms.” Erica threw a pillow at Scott but they were all very used to his optimism and the fact that he never thought badly of anyone. 

“If Harris is using words like love, I need to look for new words – it obviously doesn’t mean the same to him as it does to humans. Should a teacher be writing something like this? Maybe I should show my mother.”

“Stiles – Lydia is being difficult again.”

“I’m taking out Derek Hale.” They all turned to look at Stiles, complete shock on all of their faces. It was Lydia who spoke

“Not likely.”

“Is the movies a good second date?”

“Stiles, you would have had to have had a first date for you to progress to second.” Erica snickered at Lydia’s acerbic comment. 

“Did too have a first date. I sat across from him in the mall. We ate.” Stiles tried to stare down each of them, with minimal success. “Sharing an important physical activity event constitutes a date.”

“Was he even aware you were there?” Stiles was slightly envious of the fact that Lydia had mastered the art of raising one eyebrow in a supercilious manner – no matter how much he practised in the mirror, he just ended up looking like a hyperactive mime.

“HEY!”

“That sounds like a scam date if you ask me.”

“What the heck is a scam date?”

“No, a scam date is just lusting after someone.”

“Okay, so what counts as a date then?” They all turned to Lydia, the acknowledged expert on all things dating.

“A date – a date is a pre-existing arrangement with a possibility of a relationship and/or love.”

“Then what’s love?” Scott’s brow was furrowed with confusion but Stiles didn’t have time to explain things to Scott.

“I’m gonna call him.”

“Stiles – I don’t know how to break this to you, but he doesn’t date guys like you.” Lydia was looking more and more perturbed with his insistence.

“Does he even date?”

“Pay attention, Batman. Derek Hale is a man with a plan – a brain.”

“Trapped in the body of a Greek sculpture.”

“He doesn’t even seem to realise how good-looking he is. Not like Jackson!”

“But that’s part of what’s so cool about him. He’s not a douche, has a brain, looks like a modern-day Adonis.” Having made his point, Stiles lay back down, resting his head on Erica’s ass since she had thrown his pillow across the room.

“Brains stay with brains. Ask Lydia – that’s why she and Jackson were never going to work out.”

“Well, that, and the fact that he’s finally accepted that he’s gay.”

“Good point.”

“Stiles – we love you. And please take this the right way – perhaps you shouldn’t get your hopes up.” Erica shifted over onto her back, carding her hands through the messy spikes of Stiles’ hair, making it worse.

“I’m sorry Batman – Lydia is right. You’re a really nice guy. And a **good** guy but – “

“We just don’t want to see you get hurt, buddy.”

“I _want_ to get hurt! Derek Hale is **definitely** worth getting hurt for. Or by. I’m gonna call him.”

* * *

**DEREK**

“It’s almost over. We’ve gone to school together for three years – I dunno, I might cut that bit out.” Derek turned to his Uncle who was driving. He bit his lip nervously – he wasn’t sure he wanted to even give this speech.

“No, leave that in – it’s nice. A good start.”

“You sure?”

“Definitely. Carry on.”

“Having taken courses at the university, I’ve glimpsed our future. And all I can say is: _Go back._ ”

Peter laughed but Derek wasn’t sure just how sincere it was. Sometimes his uncles had a peculiar sense of humour, one that not everyone got. 

“Go back! That’s an excellent line – very funny.”

“Do you _really_ think so? I wasn’t sure people would get what I meant.”

“If they don’t laugh, it’s because they don’t have the brain capacity to understand it. Ha – go back!”

“Uncle Peter – “

“No, it’s wonderful. You’re actually very funny when you relax Derek.”

“Okay. Well, I’m not reading you any more of my speech – you’ll have to wait and hear it with everyone else.”

“Fair enough.” Peter pulled efficiently into a parking space that seemed to have miraculously appeared just when he needed it – he did have the knack of having things like that happen to him. They were close to the school entrance and Derek could see quite a few students that he recognised making their way inside.

“Well, we’re here.”

“Yeah.” Derek made no move to release his seat-belt, sitting stiffly.

“Don’t be nervous, Derek. This is just the next stage of our plan. Greater things await you than graduating from Beacon Hills.”

“Uncle Peter – “

“The Hale name will be recognised far and wide once again, and it will be down to you.”

“Come on, Uncle Peter, stop!”

“It’s true. All of our hard work is coming to fruition, my boy. And it will all have been worth it.” They got out of the car and Derek watched as Peter put on his suit jacket, brushing away imaginary lint. Peter was obsessed with the idea of making the Hale name great again, and sometimes the pressure that put on Derek felt like a heavy burden.

Shaking off his melancholy thoughts, Derek put on his jacket followed by his graduation gown. He had thought that wearing a suit and tie to graduation was a bit much, but Peter had reminded him that appearances were important, and as per usual, Derek had acquiesced. Looking around at some of his fellow students, he envied them their much more casual attire. Under the shade of nearby trees, he could see Stiles Stilinski and his little cluster of friends chatting excitedly, all looking so much more relaxed in their everyday clothes. Stilinski turned his head at that moment and it felt like he was staring right at Derek.

“Come along, Derek, it would be unbecoming of the Valedictorian to be late.”

“Yes, Uncle Peter.”

* * *

**STILES**

“I love you guys! High school would have been a major yawn if I haven’t met you bunch of weirdos!”

“Speak for yourself – I’m not weird, I’m simply unique!”

“That you are, Lydia!” The four of them shared hugs before finally putting on their graduation gowns and caps. Since he was wearing a Batman tee-shirt to match the Cat-woman one that Erica was wearing, Stiles couldn’t secure the gown properly, instead allowing it to flap open as it wished. Not that he particularly cared – his Dad would just be happy that Stiles was actually graduating.

“Party at Greenberg’s!” Stiles turned at the announcement, fist-bumping Ethan when he saw him.

“Awesome!”

“Should be impressive – we’re looking at eight kegs if not more. Be there?”

“You betcha!” Following Scott, Erica and Lydia, Stiles filed into the auditorium more than ready to get this part of the day over with. While students were filing in, someone had allowed Aiden to take over the stage whilst the students were filing in and he was truly massacring “The Greatest Love of All”, appearing to make zero attempts to hit the high notes. By the time Stiles and his friends were seated, Finstock had obviously had enough, wresting the microphone from Aiden’s grip and shooing him off the stage. 

“Thank you to Ethan? Aiden? I can never tell which one is which when it comes to those two! Be much easier if they would just merge into one beast – could keep track of them then!” Looking over the crowd, Finstock gestured for quiet. “And now it’s time for one of the few students who actually does have two brain cells to rub together! I can’t introduce this boy without mentioning his stellar performance on the Beacon Hills baseball **and** lacrosse team. As well as his academic studies that encompassed far more than any other student – history, oceanography, fossil fuels – we all remember the student who held an LGBTQ fundraiser that made a significant amount of money. A boy who took all of the academic records that once stood and said _’hey, check this out’_. I know he doesn’t need an introduction – you’d have to be living in a hole not to know how much this boy has achieved in his high school career. Giving a speech entitled ‘Soaring Ahead’, our Valedictorian – Derek Hale!”

Stiles’ hands hurt by the time he had stopped applauding. He didn’t hear much of Derek’s speech – he was too busy admiring how smart and sexy he looked in his suit – a suit and tie for high school graduation! Derek looked so earnest, so desperate to connect with his audience as he gave an impassioned speech and Stile realised that it was already too late for him to try not to get hurt – he was already hopelessly in love with Derek Hale.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**STILES**

“Lydia – do yourself and your friends a favour and just – stay away from Aiden.”

“Mother – “

“I’m serious – that boy is nothing but trouble for you! You lose your head when you have anything to do with him!”  
  
“Stop, okay? I will avoid Aiden. Happy now?” Lydia grudgingly accepted a kiss from her mother, before everyone said their goodbyes. 

“Bye Ms Martin.” That was Scott, as always unfailingly polite – probably because he hadn’t caught the undercurrents between the two Martin ladies.

“Look at those eyes – what colour would you call them? They change depending on his mood and the lighting...”

“Stiles, will you _please_ just give it up!”

“Scotty – take a picture of me with him.”

“How the heck are you gonna manage that?”

“Never heard of photobombing?” Ignoring Erica’s cackle of laughter, Stiles struggled out of his gown. 

“That’s just – embarrassing!”

“Please? I helped you do that thing for you and Kira – “

“Okay, okay. Just – “

“Dude – you’re awesome!” Running his hand through his hair, Stiles turned to Lydia. “How do I look?”

“Like you only have a _very_ casual relationship with a comb and no notion of dress sense.”

“Good enough, Scotty – wait until I get around to him okay?”

“Yeah, yeah! Just do it before I come to my senses!” With a nod, Stiles walked in a large semi-circle that would bring him around behind where Derek and his Uncle were talking. As he reached the two of them he heard what Derek’s uncle was saying “Your graduation present is parked over there!” just before Derek’s mouth dropped open and he pointed towards the car park, shouting excitedly.

“Are you kidding me? That?!” Before he could try for another attempt, Scott gave him the thumbs up and put his phone away, obviously done with the whole thing, Stiles made his way back to his friends and he knew the photo was bad when Scott refused to show it to him, suddenly announcing that he had to hustle home as his Mother wanted to spend some time with him.

“I’ll show you at Greenberg’s party! Time to go, everyone!”

* * *

Isaac came bustling in while Stiles was making himself a cold curly fries sandwich, leading Camden who was uncharacteristically quiet. 

“Hey bro!”  
  
“I’m so sorry! I had a new crown and three root canals – and Camden has a sore throat. Your graduation and no one was there!”  
  
“No big, I called Mom and Dad, and with the lecture I got from him, it was like they were there.”

“I really am sorry, Stiles.” Stripping off the white over-shirt that made up his dental assistant’s uniform, Isaac seemed completely done in.

“Hey. Bad throat, huh, C-man?” Camden nodded. “He’s not at full **’Yeah’** strength. Poor little man.” Giving his nephew a commiserating hug, Stiles turned back to finish making his sandwich. Isaac followed him to the counter, scowling as he took in the meal Stiles was making.

“Why do you eat that stuff? There’s barely any food in your food!” Shrugging, Stiles took a huge bite of his sandwich as he headed over to the stereo. He turned up the volume, ignoring the red line Isaac had drawn on the unit to represent the highest permitted volume. “Too loud – that red line has a purpose you know!”

“But how do you even know where to draw the line? Do you get a manual on these things when you officially reach adulthood?”

“Well, you’ll never get **that** manual! And I know where to draw the line because it’s loud enough and the neighbours don’t complain!” Stiles nodded, chewing his way through the huge bite of his sandwich he had taken. He noticed Camden looking nervously between his father and his uncle, obviously having picked up on the tension between them. Dumping his sandwich on the mantle. Stiles knelt so that he was closer to Camden’s height.

“Good thing there’s no red line on you, hey little man?” Camden smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“YEAH?”

“YEAH!” Camden shouted back, giggling at his uncle’s antics. 

“He’s back! The C-man is back, full volume and in fighting form!” Holding out his palms so they were facing Camden, he said: “Hook it off the jab” as he took Camden though some basic fighting moves.

“Can’t you be his uncle instead of his playmate?” Stiles and Camden froze, turning to see Isaac looking shocked at his outburst. Stiles got to his feet, pushing Camden gently towards his crate of toys in the middle of the room.

“Jesus Christ!”

“What?”

“Just – get into a good mood, could you?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“How hard is it to – I don’t know – just **try** to be in a good mood?” Isaac looked stunned. “I’m sorry for what – “ A quick look over his shoulder showed that Camden was engrossed in his toys, showing no interest in the adults’ conversation. “I’m sorry for what J-E-N did to you but I am **not** J-E-N!”

“Stiles, I – “

“You know, you used to be fun! Weird – sarcastic – but fun. What happened to you, man? Did she take that part of you when she walked out?” The brothers stood in silence, Camden chattering away to himself and his toys the only sounds apart from the music. “I’m kinda sorry Mom and Dad dumped me on you when he took that posting to Germany. I know you said it was fine but Isaac – I don’t want to be another ball-ache in your life! If you need me gone, Scott will put me up – or even Erica or Lydia.”

Isaac didn’t reply and with a sad feeling in his chest, Stiles crossed the room, turned the stereo down and grabbed what was left of his sandwich. 

“I’m sorry Stiles. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed with feeling responsible for Cam that I just – it’s hard to shut it down.”

“I get it, dude, I do.”

“And I don’t want you to go. You’re my kid brother and I love having you here. I know it might not seem like it but it reminds me that I’m still young, even if I do have a kid. And that life doesn’t have to end just because J-E-N left.” Isaac walked over and pulled Stiles into a hug. “I really did use to be fun.”

“You did. And you are. The only reason Cam is such a great kid is that you stepped up. Don’t underestimate what you’ve achieved and don’t give up dreaming. The right person is out there for you, Isaac.”

“Well, if you’re gonna get all sappy, this conversation is over.” Stiles didn’t protest when Isaac pulled back, seeing the tears in his brother’s eyes before he turned away. Knowing Isaac needed some time to compose himself, Stiles shoved the final bite of his sandwich into his mouth and chewed quickly. 

“I gotta make a call – if you want me, I shall be in my office.” With one last pat on his brother’s back, Stiles went to his room, trying to think of exactly what he was going to say. This might well be the most important phone call of his entire life so far.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**STILES**

“Peter Hale.”

“Hello – could I speak to Derek please?”

“I’m sorry – Derek isn’t here at the moment.” Stiles was slightly stumped – it had not occurred to him that Derek might not be there. He’d only been able to get hold of his landline number, not his cell so he had no back-up plan.

“Oh, okay.”

“Is this the guy with the Prius?”

“No.”

“Okay – the Escalade?”

“No.”

“So, you must be the one with the truck?”

“No, not a truck. I’m sorry, sir, you don’t actually know me. I’m kind of a friend of Derek’s – well, we had lunch together. At the Mall.” The silence at the other end of the line practically echoed. “I drive a Jeep – powder blue, sorta old but reliable, you know?”

“That’s – nice.”

“Right, yeah – I’m bad at this! See, what I wanted was – “

“Should I just take your name and number? That’s the way it normally works.”

“Oh – yeah, that works. That’ll be cool. The name is Stiles.”

“Stiles?”

“It’s a nickname but my actual name is a crime against spelling, so – yeah.”

“O – kay.” Feeling like the entire situation was just a shitfest, Stiles rattled off his number, then gave it again slowly to be sure.

“Well, I’ll pass on your message – Stiles.” Deciding he was imagining the judgemental tone, Stiles pressed the end call button and fell back onto his bed. That could have gone worse.

* * *

**DEREK**

Derek was helping clear up after the lunches at the Retirement Home his Uncle Peter owned, trying to figure out why he felt so out of sorts. His speech earlier had gone okay, although he’d been right – his joke about the future had fallen flat with his former classmates. It just felt like there should be – more. He’d graduated and all he had to show for it was a piece of paper. He’d been surrounded by people in groups – hugging, laughing, reminiscing – and apart from his Uncle Peter, he had not a single friend there. All the extra classes looked great on his resume, but surely there was meant to be more to High School than that?

He was standing, absent-mindedly drying dishes when Uncle Peter came into the kitchen, looking extremely excited. Which was a rare enough thing to make Derek nervous instantly.

“Hey, Uncle Peter – everything okay?” Peter took the dish he was drying away from him, making Derek feel even more nervous. “What is it? Is everything alright?”

“I had a phone call.”

“Oh my God – is it bad news? Has something happened?”

“Just listen. You won.”

“What?”

“The phone call – it was to say you won the Rosenberg Fellowship.”

“Are you kidding?” Derek grabbed his Uncle’s hands, not quite able to believe what he was hearing. “You’re not kidding? Don’t be messing with me, Uncle Peter – I couldn’t take it!”

“As if I would ever with something this important! They called because they weren’t sure you had seen the notification. You did it, Derek – you won!”

For a moment, Derek felt sure that he was going to pass out. He had never imagined in his wildest dreams when Peter had pushed him to apply for the Fellowship that he might win.

“You’re going to study at one of the finest institutions in England – the toughest fellowship in the country – and they chose you!”

“Oh my God! Oh my God! I feel sick!”

“Derek – you did it! I told you but you didn’t believe me – “

“I really think I’m going to throw up!”

“ – they’re recognising your talent, how special you are! A God-damned Hale has won the Rosenberg Fellowship – this could set you up for life!” 

Derek staggered across the kitchen, landing in one of the chairs with a thud. 

“This is incredible – you are special, nephew, and you’re being recognised for that!”

“I’ll have to go on a plane!” Derek knew he wasn’t demonstrating the excitement Peter appeared to want, but his brain needed time to reboot.

“Worry about that later.”

“I don’t think anxiety works like that, Uncle Peter.”

“Listen – you’re the best in the country! When you look at the pyramid of life, you’re on your way to the very top! No more talk of how your mother cracked under the pressure, no more stigma because of what she did – you’re wiping the slate clean, Derek!” Peter shook him by the shoulders. “Where’s the flaw in that?”

Knowing that Peter wouldn’t stop until he agreed, Derek nodded helplessly.

“Okay, okay, yes, this is brilliant – will you stop now?” Peter gave him a satisfied smirk. “So, about the car? I mean, first of all, I can’t believe you bought me a car!”

“Come on, Derek, it’s not even new. The most expensive part was converting it so it wasn’t a gas guzzler any more.”

“Uncle Peter – I can’t even drive!”

“We can sort that. NOW, enough about that – I have something else for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Since I’m not just you’re uncle, I’m your friend – I had to get you two gifts.”

“God, this is ridiculous!”

“Here’s the only thing your mother ever gave me that I kept. I admit, I let my temper get the better of me when everything happened back then – “ Seeming to be at a loss for words, Peter handed Derek a small box. Opening it, Derek vaguely remembered the watch he saw inside. It was very simple and elegant, but he understood Peter’s attachment to it when he turned it over and read the engraving.

> A Hale with Family  
> Is rich indeed

“I can’t possibly take this!”

“Of course you can.”

“I don’t even know anyone who got a car – “

“You know how much the family name means to me, Derek. This is just my way of letting you know how proud your mother would be of what you’ve achieved, and what you will achieve if you stick to our plan.”

As Peter strapped the watch to his wrist, Derek felt guilty that it felt like just one more weight on his shoulders.

* * *

The rest of his shift at the Retirement Home was blessedly quiet, although it passed in a blur. Towelling his hair dry after his shower, Derek saw that his uncle had left a sheet of paper on his bed. Curious, he looked over the list of names and numbers, coming to a halt when he saw one name in particular. Stiles Stilinski had called him.

Dropping onto his bed, he scrambled through his bedside table for his cell – he used it so infrequently that he rarely carried it round unless he was going out. He refused to admit to himself that as he pressed the digits, his hands shook.

* * *

**STILES**

“Oh my God!” Still wet from his shower, Stiles looked around his bedroom as if he had never seen it before, suddenly unable to figure out what to do. Of course, answering the call would probably help and it might be a cold caller and not – “Derek?”

“Hi.”

“Hello.”

“You called me.”

“I did, yes.” There was silence and Stiles could feel sweat trickle down his spine.

“Um, did you want something?” The confusion in Derek’s voice finally broke through Stiles’ brain fog.

“I did, yeah. Umm – I heard about your Fellowship and wanted to congratulate you.”

“Thank you, that’s really nice of you.”

“And your speech today was awesome.”

“Thank you very much.”

“So yeah, what a day, right?”

“Yes – what a day.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Yes, Stiles, I know who you are. We sat together and ate at the Mall.”

“You remember?”

“Well, since I’m not senile, yes, I remember.”

“Okay. So, I’m Stiles – which you already know. Let’s go out.” Stiles cursed himself silently for just blurting that out. “You wanna go out? With me, I mean.”

“Thank you, but I’m busy.”

“Busy?

“Things are pretty hectic, but thanks.”

“Are you busy on Friday?”

“I’m helping my Uncle Peter.”

“How about Saturday?”

“Er – well, I have things to do around the house.”

“So, you’re like, monumentally busy?” Bowing his head in disappointment, Stiles slumped on the bed. 

“Well, not _monumentally_.”

“What about tonight? Are you going to Greenberg’s party? You can’t leave the country without going to Greenberg’s.” Not giving Derek a chance for a final refusal, Stiles ploughed on. “This guy is 22 and only comes out of hiding once a year for this – dressed as the Beacon Hills Wolf! He makes purple passion drinks – “

“I think that – “

“You’re not in England yet! Did I tell you I lived in England for six months? My parents – well my Dad – is in the army and we were stationed there. And in Germany. I could give you many English tips! They’re a strange set of people and some of their customs are a bit weird – I could you all sorts of suggestions and ideas – “

“I’ll go.”

“Pardon me?”

“I’ll go.”

“You will? I mean – excellent. This is great.”

“Okay.”

“You mean it?”

“I said I’ll go.”

“We’re going out. It’s a date. Not a scam or whatever – it’s a proper date.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’m gonna go before you change your mind.” Stiles was sure he heard Derek snort with laughter but he didn’t care. “I’ll pick you up – at 8.00?”

“Eight.”

“Eight o’clock.”

“Goodbye Stiles.”

“Goodbye.” Derek hung up and Stiles sat holding his cell, not quite believing what had happened. Not only had he, somehow, asked Derek Hale out – he had convinced him to say yes! 

Shit, he needed to call Lydia and Erica – what the hell was he going to wear?

* * *


	5. The Date

**STILES**

Taking a deep breath, Stiles walked up the drive and knocked on the front door. From inside, he heard a cultured voice say ‘Be right there’ before the door opened in front of him. Slightly taller than Stiles, the man was good looking with a well-groomed goatee, bright blue eyes, and wearing a very tight vee-neck teeshirt. 

“Hello, sir, I’m Stiles Stilinski. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Hello, Stiles. Yes, I believe we spoke earlier.”

“Hi. I heard about the graduation present – that is quite a car, and I heard it’s been converted so it’s green. Look, I know you’re busy – please don’t think you have to entertain me – you can trust me.” Knowing he was rambling but unable to stop himself, Stiles kept on.” I’ll tell you a bit about myself. I’m nineteen – I’ve been overseas for a couple of semesters with my parents who are in the military, but now I’m back. Um, I’m an athlete, so I rarely drink. I do Muay Thai – have you heard of it? It’s a combat sport – a discipline known as “the art of eight limbs”, mainly because you use your fists, elbows, knees and shins. And since I’m all limbs it works for me. I can tell from your face you haven’t really heard of it, but suffice it to say that Derek will be safe with me for the next seven, eight hours.”

“Okay. That’s fine, Stiles.”

“Anyway, how ya doing? Is Derek around?”

“Yes – he’s upstairs. Bear with me please.” The man turned towards the staircase just as Derek came down them. Derek was dressed in dark denim jeans, a tight dark-green henley and holding a leather jacket.

“Whoa!” Fortunately, the man didn’t seem to have heard Stiles’ exclamation. Derek walked over to them giving a shy smile.

“Hi – would you hold this for me?” He handed Stiles the leather jacket, turning to grab his wallet from a bowl on a side-table by the door. He took the jacket back, sliding the wallet and his cell into a pocket before swinging it around so that he could put it on.

“Ready. Bye, Uncle Peter.”

“Bye, Derek I hope you have a good time.”

“It was nice to meet you, sir.”

“Yes, you too – Stiles.”

In silence, Derek and Stiles left the house with the man, obviously Peter Hale, watching them from the doorway. Stiles rushed forward to open the door of the jeep, knowing that it sometimes stuck. Derek gave him a strange look before climbing in, already putting on his seatbelt by the time Stiles had slammed the door and run around to climb in on the driver’s side.

Derek shifted sideways in his seat, pulling out a crumpled packet of half-eaten snacks.

“Sorry – I didn’t get a chance to clean her up before I came to get you. I'll kill Scott – he’s always leaving his rubbish in here.”

“No big.” Derek looked over the car interior, although Stiles couldn’t discern any disgust, merely curiosity. “Um, would it be an issue if I wanted to leave early?”

“Absolutely not. The night is yours.”

Turning the ignition, they both winced as loud music blared out, the sounds of Post Malone’s “Circles” filling the interior. Stiles blushed bright red, fumbling with the dials to turn the sound down to a reasonable level – there went making a good impression.

“Sorry – I was chilling as I drove here.”

“No problem.” The drive passed peacefully, Derek looking out of the window whilst Stiles concentrated on driving. He parked a little away from Greenberg’s house, not wanting to get caught up in what would no doubt be a mass of student cars, and the two of them walked in companionable silence to the large house on the corner. As they walked through the front door, it was apparent that the party had already started.

“Oh my God! Hi Stiles.” With a nod in the general direction of the greeting, Stiles began to lead Derek through the house towards the back garden. As he went, he could hear various exclamations of surprise at Derek being there but he didn’t stop.

“Are you okay? Would you like a drink?” Derek nodded, still looking around much like a child at the zoo, watching as many of their classmates got their freak-on to the loud music thumping from the stereo.

As they reached the back garden, Stiles could see Greenberg standing behind a fountain of purple liquid – his signature drink. He was muttering to himself, something about it needing to stay purple for the duration of the party.

“It’s gotta stay purple – all night. Hey, Stiles, how ya doing?”

“You know Derek Hale?”

“Wow, well I never thought I would see you at one of my parties but you are most welcome.”

“Thank you – it’s nice to meet you.”

“Listen, Stiles, I need you to be the Keymaster.” Greenberg handed Stiles a bag and he scowled.

“Oh, I was just gonna – “

“That, Derek, is a very responsible young man you are out with tonight.”

“But I was gonna – “

“Thanks a lot, Stiles. No one else I’d trust the job too! Hey – don’t climb that!” Without giving Stiles the chance to protest any further, Greenberg walked off, literally leaving Stiles holding the bag.

“Thanks.”

“What’s a Keymaster?” Stiles sighed before turning to Derek.

“Yeah, I have to judge who can drive home and who can’t. I have to keep their keys – hence, Keymaster.”

“Oh – so it’s an honour?”

“Hell no! It means I can’t have a drink all night and have to hang around until the last miscreant has been bundled off home!” Before Derek could respond, Stiles was slammed into the garden wall, nearly overbalancing as a drunk individual tried to hug him.

“We graduated dude!”

“Yep, and I can tell just how long you’ve been celebrating!” Over the shoulder of the inebriated young man, Stiles could see that Jackson Whittemore had turned up and was leading Derek away.

“Here are my keys!”

He sighed, accepting the car keys the drunk kid passed him, before helping himself to a can of soda from underneath the purple passion drink fountain.

As he opened the can, another guy he vaguely recognised walked up to him and he opened the bag and held it out to him. As he threw his keys into the bag, the guy gave Stiles a strange look.

“What?”

“I was just wondering – just how did you get Derek Hale to come to this with you?”

“Umm, I’m not sure if I should be insulted – er..”

“Theo – Theo Raeken.”

“Right, Theo.”  
  
“No, seriously – I just wondered. What the heck did you do to get him to come?”

“I just called him.” Theo looked shocked at the very idea that it might have been that easy.

“Wow. That just – that just gives so much hope to the rest of us. Who are you?”

“I’m Stiles Stilinski.” Theo nodded as though Stiles had said something profound.

“You da man.” Smirking at Stiles, he turned to the purple fountain and helped himself to a drink. Stiles sighed as he turned and watched the back of Derek’s head moving away with Jackson – this was not quite how he had imagined the date would go.

He wandered through the house, keeping an eye on Derek as he did so, before heading out the front to catch any drivers before they got inside to the booze.

“Keys – hand your keys over here.” As he was accepting another set of keys, a car that looked vaguely familiar pulled up and parked. He sighed when he saw Ms Morrell, the school guidance counsellor, step out of the car.

“Stiles – Stiles Stilinski, I have finally caught you.”

“Hey Ms Morrell.”

“You missed every one of your career counselling sessions. Call me obsessive, compulsive, but let's do this right now.”

“Hell no!”

“Stiles!” Momentarily distracted by a fighting couple walking by, Stiles turned back to Ms Morrell in frustration. “Don’t make this harder – I **will** chase you if I have to!” He turned back to the guidance counsellor, accepting that she would not let it lie. “Stiles, I have statistics and graphs – so much stuff I can show you – and it all says the same thing. You have to decide on a career.”

Biting his lip, Stiles considered what to say.

“My dad’s a lieutenant colonel in the army – he wants me to join, says he’ll pull some strings. But I mean, there’s just absolutely no fucking way.”

“So we’ll make an appointment for you at Beacon Hills College.”

“Are you the Keymaster?” A girl wandered over and Stiles showed her the bag, accepting her keys. He turned back to Ms Morrell.

“I’m not going to Beacon Hills College. I’ve got my Muay Thai and I write games – I’ve sold two and have some people interested in a couple more. College can’t offer me anything now. I’m not looking for a career in the army, or to join the masses at college. I kinda want to forge my own path, you know?”

“Stiles – absolutely everybody in that party put something down on their form apart from you.”

“Yeah, but exactly how many of them know what they really want to do? I mean, they can say they know but how many of them actually know? I just know what’s not for me and I’m not going to let anyone railroad me into something that doesn’t feel right. You know?” Morrell looked at him carefully, seeming to assess him.

“Stay you, Stilinski.” She dropped her keys into his bag and walked off into the house, leaving Stiles behind open-mouthed.

* * *


	6. Party on, Beacon Hills!

**DEREK**

Shoving a drink into his hand, Jackson Whittemore seemed determined to ‘bond’ with Derek.

“I know we were all competitive this year, but I just wanted to say that if it hadn’t been for Derek Hale breaking all sorts of academic records, I probably wouldn’t have gotten into Cornell. You made me study twice as hard.”

“Wow, Jackson – I gotta admit, you did the same for me!”

“I did?” Jackson looked shocked then a little smug. “So, I have to ask. Did you really come here with Stiles Stilinski? How did that happen? There are so many cute guys who would love to have your number.”

“He made me laugh,” Derek admitted with a shrug. Derek turned, catching a glimpse of Stiles watching him from across the room. It was kinda sweet really – whenever he started to feel a little overwhelmed or lost, he could turn and there would be Stiles. “Could you give me a minute – I need to make a phone call.” 

Dialling his Uncle Peter on his cell, Derek looked around at his classmates. Some of them were really and truly letting their hair down, dancing like it was their last night on earth. Others were drinking, and he was pretty sure there was some illicit smoking of weed going on. 

“Hi, Uncle Peter. He’s okay actually. No, you’re welcome. I always call you, you know that. Please, stop being grateful – it's only polite to check in with you. Okay, well I’ll see you before dawn. Bye.” He turned back to Jackson, who had been joined by one of the twins. Before he could second-guess himself, he asked, “Would you sign my yearbook?” 

“Sure – here, sign mine at the same time.”

“Did you really have to call your Uncle?” That was Aiden? Ethan?

“God, that’s nightmarish! There is no way in hell I would accept that kind of control from my parents!” Checking his yearbook, Derek realised it was Aiden.

“Oh I promised – it stops him from worrying.”

“Is he going to wait up?”

“Tell him nothing!” Derek laughed, unable to reconcile the idea that these people were talking to him, let alone giving him advice. “I know a few girls who say if you go in crying, they leave you alone – no one wants to deal with a hysterical teenager.” Derek laughed even harder, trying to imagine his Uncle’s face if he walked in crying – Hales did not cry.

Somehow, Derek found himself out in the garden, talking to Lydia by the purple passion fountain. 

“I mean, Aiden was my first love, he was my first sex – he was my first everything. My Mother thinks I just need to keep away from him – she thinks I need to concentrate on my career and she’s not wrong.” Despite her passionate speech, Derek could see that Lydia looked worried. 

“He’s at the other end of the house – doing a keg stand.” Lydia looked relieved. 

“It’s a shame more guys can’t be like Stiles.” Derek turned around, spotting Stiles by a set of patio doors, obviously checking up on him. 

“He checks up on me to make sure I’m doing okay. Look.” He nodded in the direction of the doors, and Lydia looked over, smiling. 

“He really is a good guy. Just – don’t mess with his heart, okay?”

“I wouldn’t do that. If it wasn’t for him, I don’t think I would have had the nerve to come to this.”

“That’s good – really good.” They shared a smile, then Lydia wandered off and Derek finally found himself alone. It had been an intense evening so far – everyone wanted to talk to him and his yearbook was full of signatures that he had never expected to get. Finishing off his drink, he looked around for somewhere to put the glass, surprised when Stiles appeared by his side.

“So, we can finally talk?”

“You up to date with your Keymaster duties?”

“Argh, don’t talk to me about that! Some of these guys are insane – and the weight of these keyrings is killing me!”

“Poor baby!” They laughed together, turning as there was a shout. Someone was dressed up as the Beacon Hills mascot of a wolf, complete with a fluffy tail. They ran into the garden and blew an air-horn.

> Beacon, Beacon, have no fear  
>  Just come back another year!

There was a roar from the crowd before the mascot disappeared under a mass of people, all of them seemingly intent on grabbing some of the fluff from the tail.

Realising that it must be Greenberg, Derek stared in amazement.

“He does this every year?”

“It’s the worst job since Keymaster!” Derek watched a moment longer, turning to Stiles with a smile when he tapped him on the shoulder. “You coming? Grabbing some of that tail is meant to be lucky!” Laughing, Derek joined Stiles in jumping into the crowd, emerging a few minutes later triumphantly holding some tail-fluff.

* * *

**STILES**

Spending time with Derek was a lot of fun. He could talk about a wide range of topics but seemed fascinated by even the smallest things. They spent some time people-watching, commenting on the couples they had expected and not expected to see. As time passed, Stiles was able to start handing back keys, watching as Ubers were ordered by people too inebriated to drive, and generally soaking up being in Derek’s company.

They danced to a few songs, although that in itself was funny. Derek danced with grace and elegance, never quite letting himself go, whereas Stiles danced the way he always had with his mother when he was young: full tilt, throwing his body into the music and loving every second. Derek didn’t seem to mind, laughing along with Stiles and occasionally copying some of his moves, although he made even those look elegant. 

Lydia found them at one point, dropping a kiss on Stiles’ cheek in farewell. 

“I have summer school so won’t be around as much – but you keep on doing what you’re doing. Don’t let anyone define you, Stiles – you are made for great things.”

“And you’ve drunk more than you’ve realised if you’re being nice to me! Love you, Lyds – I’m glad you stayed away from Aiden!”

“Me too. Derek – it’s been a pleasure to finally meet you. I hope you have a good summer and good luck with your fellowship.”

“Thank you – it’s been great meeting you too.”

Stiles realised that most of the people had left, or were leaving as Greenberg came over to them wearing the remnants of his Mascot uniform and lugging a half-full bag of rubbish. 

“You know, every year I throw this party and every year no one stays to help me clean up. Remind me why I do it again? And why am I yelling?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Alright, Stiles, you have been a rock, my good man.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll come round tomorrow and help you clean up a little.”

“You don’t need to do that, but thanks! Derek – everyone was completely stoked that you turned up tonight – I think you were the surprise hit of the party!”

“You’re a great wolf, Greenberg – here, sign my yearbook please!” Greenberg flipped through the pages before finally finding a blank space that he could fill in. “This thing is full – you must have spoken to everybody here?”

Before Stiles or Derek could respond, the drunk young man from earlier that evening threw himself at Stiles, knocking him to the ground.

“Give me my firebird keys!”

“Oh hell no! You must chill – you must chill! I have hidden your keys – you will get them back tomorrow once you’re sober!” 

“I love you man!” Stiles managed to push the man off, getting to his feet.

“Yeah, love you too. You need to get some sleep!” With a smile, the man curled himself into a ball and proceeded to go to sleep where he was. Derek laughed and Stiles joined in with a shrug, not surprised at the action. There were often a lot of bodies left at Greenberg’s after his party. 

Greenberg gave Derek his yearbook back, smiling at the two of them.

“Thank you.”

“Greenberg, I hereby surrender my duties as Keymaster.” He held out the bag. “Gimme a beer.”

“Certainly – hang on.” Greenberg seemed to magic up a beer from nowhere, holding it out to Stiles. 

“I am happy to declare this bag is officially empty.” Stiles held the bag upside down, frowning as there was a jingle and a set of keys dropped to the ground. 

“Uh oh!”

“The back bathroom – there’s always one who hides out in the back bathroom.” Stiles and Derek followed Greenberg through the house to the back bedroom, staring at the occupant who was collapsed over the toilet. 

“Who the heck is this gentleman?”

“That’s Theo Raeken – I met him earlier.”

Theo looked up at hearing his name, smiling blearily at Stiles, Derek and Greenberg.

“I gotta get home.” Stiles cursed, knowing what Greenberg was going to say before he even said it.

* * *


	7. A Night on the Road

**STILES**

“Okay, Theo, where are we going?” Derek and Stiles sat in the front of the jeep, with Theo lolling around in the back. Theo leaned forward between the front seats, letting out a huge belch. 

“Oops, excuse me.” Stiles and Derek shared a look, trying hard not to laugh. 

“How you doing, Theo?”

“I don’t really know where we are – do you know where we are?” Rolling his eyes, Stiles turned the dial on the car stereo until he found a local radio station. The DJ announced _“I’m about to play you three hours of commercial-free rock and roll as the soundtrack to this magical night. Congratulations to the graduating class of Beacon Hills.”_

“That way.” Following Theo’s directions, Stiles took the corner with a bad feeling that this was not going to go well.

* * *

**DEREK**

Taking yet another corner, Stiles turned to look at Theo. 

“Recognise anything yet? Anything?” Derek was amazed that Stiles was still being so patient. Theo appeared to have no idea whatsoever where he lived, sending them down back-roads and side-streets with no success.

The radio DJ announced: _“Well, Lord have mercy on any souls still out and about. That was three hours of commercial-free rock and roll. Good morning and welcome to another day in beautiful Beacon Hills.”_

Derek couldn’t believe they’d been driving around for three hours. Theo had generally been a muttering backdrop as Derek and Stiles chatted amiably. Derek couldn’t think of anyone that he’d spoken to for that length of time and not been bored. Several times, Stiles had offered to drop him at home but Derek was perfectly happy to stay in the car. 

Suddenly from the back of the car, Theo exclaimed: “Hey, that’s it – that’s my house! I live there!” Derek was stunned – they had driven this road at least three times with no signs of recognition from Theo. Stiles, however, seemed energised, pulling over sharply and turning to Theo. 

“Well, have a good sleep.” Theo jumped out, turning to speak to them both through Stiles’ side-window. 

“Thanks a lot – you guys are the best! Hey, we should hang out sometime – this has been – “ Derek didn’t hear whatever else Theo had to say as Stiles took off with a mild screech of the tyres, sending Derek into paroxysms of laughter. 

“Had enough?”

“I was just relieved he didn’t throw up! Fancy a slushie?” Derek nodded, sitting back happily as Stiles took the next corner and headed to the nearest Seven-Eleven.

“So – what did they write in your book? What did the masses have to say to Derek Hale?”

Derek opened his yearbook, still amazed at how many people had wanted to write in it. 

“Alright, this is some of the things they wrote me; _”Glad I finally met you”, “You always seemed so nice”, “Wish I could have known you more”…_ – things like that.”  
  
“Huh. Mine all say ‘see you around, maybe!’”

“I don’t believe that!” 

“Believe me – I’ll show you!”

Derek sat back with a sigh, thinking back over the evening.

“Nobody knew me before tonight. I kept myself so busy with extra classes and stuff that – I never got to know any of them.”

“They knew of you. Now they know you.”

“Yeah, but for the first time ever I kinda fit in, you know? I was just another teenager instead of this big brain who had nothing else to do or say.”

“That’s cool though, right? That you let them in and got to know some of them?”

“Yeah. I’m glad I did this. Thanks, Stiles.” They shared a smile as Stiles pulled into the car park of the Seven-Eleven. Grabbing a slushie took minutes and then they were back outside. “We can walk from here – if you like.”

“Yeah, that would be cool.” They walked at a leisurely pace, enjoying their slushies. “So, it’s just you and your Uncle Peter, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s an old story – everyone knows of it. You don’t wanna hear it.” Derek wasn’t sure he wanted to ruin the evening with talk of his mother, but found himself wondering if Stiles would understand in a way no one else ever did – there was just something about him that made Derek want to confide all of his secrets. 

“Sure I do. I don’t tend to listen to gossip – besides, I was away for a few semesters so I’m not up on everything Beacon Hills.”

“Well, my Mom ran a company just outside Beacon Hills – she was a big deal in conservation energy research. Uncle Peter worked with her, actually – they were quite the duo. I really don’t know everything that happened but there was a takeover attempt by another company, an audit and then – well, my Mom crumbled under the pressure, there were lots of allegations of misappropriation of company funds and she – well, she ran.”

“So you don’t know where she is?”

“Nope. And Uncle Peter lost everything because even though he wasn’t on the paperwork, he was associated with it all. He’s built up his business since then, but he’s a bit obsessed with making the Hale name great again – he’s heavily invested in me and my future.”

“Wow, that must be some pressure to handle.”

“Yeah – sometimes it feels like a burden but then I remember that Uncle Peter has done so much for me, has been there for me. My older sister Laura went off to New York to get away from everything so Uncle Peter is all I have.”

“Hey – watch out for that glass.” Derek hadn’t been paying attention to where he was walking as he told his story and he watched with surprise as Stiles pointed out some broken glass in front of them, sweeping it aside with his foot as he directed Derek around it. “It sounds like you and your uncle are really close. He probably doesn’t see it as having done so much for you – you’re just family, you know?”

Derek nodded.

“Yeah, thanks. But it still feels – “

“Heavy?”

“Yeah. That. Exactly.” 

They turned down his street, walking together in companionable silence, enjoying the early morning.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I had a great date with you. I’ve never really gone out with someone as – well _basic_ as you, but I had a really good time.”

“Basic? Hmm.”

“So, what’s your job over the summer?”

“Job?” Stiles seemed to give it some thought. “Being a great date.”

“No, seriously.”

“I am being serious. I want to see you again. I want to see as much of you as I can before you leave. There, I said it.” Stiles looked defiant but also vulnerable. 

“But I only have something like sixteen weeks – there is so much that needs to be done before I go.” Stiles grabbed his free hand, holding Derek in place. 

“Sixteen weeks is a long time. A lot can happen in sixteen weeks.” Derek looked into Stiles' face, seeing the sincerity and regard there, and he made an impulsive decision.

“Then call me tomorrow.”

“Today is tomorrow.”

“Then call me later.” They had reached Derek’s house and Derek could almost _feel_ his uncle watching from inside. Before he could second-guess himself, he grabbed Stiles in a tight hug, closing his eyes the better to enjoy the moment. Stiles hugged him back, his arms surprisingly strong as he held Derek against his body. 

Finally, letting go, Derek ran lightly towards the house. He turned back briefly when he heard Stiles say “I’ll call you later” before using his key to let himself in. As he walked in, he saw that his uncle was waiting for him.

“Morning nephew.”

“Morning Uncle Peter. I am so glad I went. Goodnight.” He turned to go up the stairs but Peter stopped him.

“Wait a minute – how was Stiles?”

“He was a complete gentleman. He was funny and sarcastic and kind and nervous. I met people that I would never have met, and we had a great time but then I think I blew it.”

“What makes you think you blew it?”

“I called him _basic_. I didn’t mean it in a bad way – I just – he makes everything seem so simple, so uncomplicated – “

“I don’t think he’s embarrassed by it.” Peter gestured to the window, and Derek followed him so that he could see outside. Stiles was in the middle of the street, blowing kisses and bowing to an imaginary crowd. Derek laughed, delighted at this evidence that Stiles has not felt unduly insulted by what he said. 

“Goodnight Uncle Peter.”

“Goodnight, nephew.” Derek left Peter still looking out of the window, feeling like he was walking on air.

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is running away with me, so I'm going to post a few chapters since they seem desperate to be out there!
> 
> * * *

**ERICA**

“I’m telling you, Stiles is doomed.”

“Why would you say that, Lydia? Look, you said Batman wouldn’t even get a date and he convinced her to go to _Greenberg’s_. I seriously think you’re underestimating him.” Erica gave Lydia a side glance. “Besides, I think you’re letting your experience with Ethan colour your judgement.”

“He made the second date the equivalent of a meet the family audition. It’s some dinner party with his uncle. That does not bode well.”

“Why?”

“Uh oh.” Erica glanced over at Scott, who she had kinda forgotten was there, to be honest. He was sprawled on the floor, flipping through a magazine. “It’s too much pressure – it’s not his crowd. And with the way his dad can be – Stiles doesn’t do well with parental figures.”

“Well, just because it’s a family thing doesn’t mean it’s going to go badly.”

“What did you say to him?”

“What makes you think I gave him any advice?”

“Because you’re you. And she’s Lydia. And neither of you can help yourselves from trying to ‘assist’.” Scott did have a point.

“I told him to be himself.”

“He’s got that nervous talking, rambling thing. I told him not to speak.”

“Lydia!”

“I was _trying_ to help!”

Scott sat up, the magazine flipping open on his lap and falling on a lingerie advert.

“Look, I know this might sound like a weird thing to say but – maybe Derek _likes_ Stiles!” Lydia looked over at Scott, eyebrow raised imperiously.

“If you were Derek Hale – with everything Derek Hale is capable of, can do with his life – would _you_ like Stiles?” 

Erica gave it some serious thought, trying to ignore the fact that years ago she had had a pretty serious crush on Stilinski. It had died a death upon becoming friends with him – that, and sleepovers where he farted under the covers for fun had killed it off. But Derek and Stiles – the way they had been at the party – the way that Stiles could be there for you whenever you needed him. Well. She looked at her friends, realising they were giving it serious thought too. 

“Yeah.” Lydia smiled and shook her head. Almost despite herself, she finally replied to her own question.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Scott! Is there something you want to tell us? Does Kira know how _flexible_ you are?!” Erica ducked as the magazine flew at her head, laughing. Stiles would be fine.

* * *

**STILES**

Stiles tugged at his collar, feeling like it was choking him. He’d made a real effort when Derek had invited him for dinner with his Uncle Peter, going so far as to buy a new shirt and tie. Parental figures tended not to like him so he was nervous as hell – he got the feeling from everything Derek said the night of Greenberg’s party that winning over Peter wasn’t going to be easy but was essential. Derek appeared from his en-suite bathroom and Stiles almost swallowed his tongue at seeing his naked chest – for a brain, Derek was _built_ , his tanned skin lying over well-developed muscles. Fortunately, Derek was wearing basketball shorts instead of just his boxer briefs, otherwise, Stiles was pretty sure he would have spontaneously combusted. 

“You think I should wear this shirt?” Derek held up a cream shirt and Stiles thought it looked really nice against his skin. Of course, it would look far nicer on the floor but Stiles was trying to control his base instincts. 

“Yeah – that looks nice.”

“Or, I could always wear this one?” Derek held up a mint-green shirt but Stiles shook his head, not liking it as much.

“Nah – your eyes are a prettier shade of green.” Derek stood in front of the mirror inlaid in the wardrobe, looking at Stiles in the reflection. 

“You know what colour my eyes are?”

“Well, they’re not just green – they have gold bits and some brown. It depends on your mood and the lighting.” Stiles looked away, embarrassed. “I swear I’m not a stalker.”

He looked back in time to see Derek nod, smiling a soft smile. Smiling back, Stiles cleared his throat then went back to his perusal of Derek’s bedroom. There were numerous posters on the wall, some for baseball and basketball, some scientific stuff that went over Stiles’ head. He picked up a model of a brain and gave it a surreptitious sniff before putting it back where it belonged – who the heck kept a model of a brain in their bedroom?

“Oh, I forgot to tell you who’ll be at the dinner tonight. Um, it’s my Uncle’s accountant and two women who work in his nursing home. I know you don’t know them but hopefully, it won’t be too dire.” Derek turned to look at Stiles. “You know, you really didn’t have to come to a boring family dinner. You must have better things to do with your time.”

“Hey, I told you – my job for the summer is being **your** great date. Besides, if the only way I can get to spend time with you is at a dinner party, then Stiles Stilinski, dinner guest extraordinaire!”

“Okay – you have me convinced. You didn’t need to go there with the jazz hands!” Stiles snorted, turning back to the shelves and picking up what was at least a 3-inch thick dictionary.

“Christ, this is the mother of all dictionaries!” He cursed his lack of filter, turning to see that Derek was blushing.

“Yeah – I’ve had it forever. My mother gave it to me because I kept asking her what things meant. I had this habit when I was a kid – if I heard a word I didn’t understand, I would look it up and highlight it in my dictionary.”

Stiles nodded and flicked through the dictionary, eyebrows rising to his hairline at the pages that looked like they were made entirely of highlighter.

“How about this one?” Derek was holding up a shirt that was a deeper shade of green, almost jewel-like, and Stiles nodded enthusiastically.

“Yep – that one for sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh definitely.”

“Okay then – if sir likes the green, I shall wear the green.” Derek grinned at him and Stiles felt like he was melting, unable to do anything but grin back and stare. Before he could make more of a fool of himself, the doorbell rang and he jolted out of his reverie.

“I guess I better get out of here – let you have some privacy to dress.”

“Yes please.” Giving a salute, Stiles let himself out of Derek’s bedroom, leaning his back against the door and taking a deep breath. There was no chance in hell he was going downstairs – being on his own with Peter and his guests was akin to Daniel facing the lions. He would just take a look at all the art-work displayed in the hallway outside Derek’s bedroom and try to get rid of his boner – arriving for dinner with tented trousers was not the look he was going for!

* * *


	9. Dinner and Conversation

**STILES**

The meal passed quite pleasantly, with generalised conversation. Stiles tried his best not to be too much _himself_ as per Lydia’s instructions, and he thought he did a decent enough job. Derek seemed happy anyway – sat across from him, he shared smiles with Stiles throughout the meal. 

Peter’s accountant, someone called Deucalion, was a little bit smarmy, but Stiles figured that was part and parcel of being an accountant. 

“That was a great meal, you two. Thank you.” Deucalion wiped his mouth with his napkin with a smile. 

“Derek – I can’t believe how much you’ve grown! You’re the spitting image of your mother.” Kali was one of the staff from the nursing home, a dusky beauty with long dark hair who gave Stiles the creeps for some reason. Maybe it was the way she kept licking her lips whenever she looked at Derek. 

“Yes – you really do take after Talia. It’s in the eyes, the shape of the mouth, everything.” Derek seemed embarrassed with the topic of conversation, shifting around in his seat. 

“Thank you. I always thought I looked more like my father.”

“So, what airline do they send you over to England on?”

“Oh, Charter I believe.” 

Peter laughed and they all turned towards him. 

“Sorry, I was just thinking – Derek is not the world’s greatest flyer, let me tell you. When he was eight years old – “

“Uncle Peter – “

“Now why can’t I tell this story?”

“What story?” Kali asked. 

“Fine – if you’re gonna tell it, let me tell it.”

“Fine, but let me start it. Talia permitted me to take Derek with me on one of my trips – I was travelling to Los Angeles on business and it was his first aeroplane.”

“I knew how planes flew – well in theory anyway – but I was a little nervous. Laura didn’t help – she kept telling me about all number of plane crashes and how people died and it scared me.”

“Crash paranoia. You’re safer in a plane than on a bus these days.” Peter snorted, somewhat inelegantly. Stiles found himself fascinated by how they played off against each other – and just how many times Peter must have told this story.

“I had a checklist in mind, things that meant the plane was safe and that we wouldn’t crash. Uncle Peter had already started doing some work even though we hadn’t taken off, so I was going through my checklist. For some reason, I thought if babies were on the plane, then it couldn’t crash.” Derek looked embarrassed. “But all of the babies on the plane were crying.”

“There were at least four of the little rug-rats, all competing with each other to make the most noise.”

“So I thought they must know something I didn’t, otherwise, why would they be crying?”

Peter took up the story. 

“So anyway, they closed the doors and they’re just about to start going through the safety procedures when my darling nephew here starts to scream.” Peter laughed a little. “I’ve never heard a scream like that in my life – he sounded like someone was killing him! I tried to quieten him down, but he was having none of it – just kept screaming and shouting about how we were all going to die!”

“And once Uncle Peter realised I wasn’t going to calm down, he got up and told them to turn the plane around – off the runway and back to the concourse.”

“Which they did, because by this time the other passengers were starting to panic.” Derek was about to interrupt Peter again. “Let me finish.”

“Okay, fine, I give up! I have no dignity left anyway!”

“So, these two federal marshals meet the plane, and when we got off they took us aside, made me give them all of our details and politely asked us never to fly with “Beacon Skies” again!”

“Oh my God!”

“Right?” 

“So, you never flew?” 

“Nope. I missed the meeting because I had to bring Derek back home – let me tell you, Talia was _not_ impressed, but I was just pleased he’d stopped screaming!”

“And, yet, there’s more!” Stiles looked at Derek in surprise.

“What more could there be?”

“Would you believe there was somebody on the plane who worked in a recording studio – special effects, that kind of thing. So we get this phone call – he’s making a sound effects records and wanted to know if he could come over and record Derek’s scream!”

“Which they did, so sometimes in a commercial or even the odd horror movie, you can hear a recording of petrified 8 year old me screaming!” 

There was generalised laughter from all of them, obviously not meant maliciously, and Derek was laughing too. Stiles found himself speaking before he could think.

“You two are amazing, you know? The way you are, the way you talk to each other – almost finish each other's sentences. I’m just like that with – actually, I’m not like that with anybody.” Derek flushed and Peter gave him a searching look, but neither spoke. 

Feeling uncomfortable, Stiles got up from the table and wandered around the room, coming to a stop in front of an honest to God jukebox. 

“This is amazing, sir – I’ve never seen a real, proper jukebox outside of a retro diner or something.” He stroked the glass top, peering through and looking at the songs on offer. “How do you pay for one of those? The licensing and such.”

“Oh, my lawyer sorts all of that out. The guy I bought it from didn’t want to part with it but I convinced him – that and a small matter of nine thousand dollars.”

“So, Stiles – “ Stiles turned back to Deucalion, mind still on the jukebox. “ – you graduated Beacon Hills, right?”

“I did, sir.”

“What are you going to do now? College or other plans?”

“Yes, Stiles – I asked Derek but he didn’t seem to know. Just what are your plans for your future?”

“Well, I plan to spend as much time as possible with Derek before he leaves.” Peter scowled at his reply.

“Seriously, Stiles.”

“I am completely and totally serious.”

“No, really. What do you plan to do with your life?” Realising that Peter wasn’t going to stop until he got an answer that satisfied him, Stiles thought about it for a moment.

“I’m assuming you mean career? Uh, well I don’t know. I’ve thought about it quite a bit, sir, and I’d have to say considering what’s waiting out there for me – I don’t want to go to college – formal education isn’t my thing. So, uh, my father’s in the army – he wants me to join but I can’t see myself doing that. I’ve been doing my Muay Thai, which is an excellent sport which I think has a great future. But as far as career longevity goes with that, it depends – you can’t really tell.” Stiles bit his lip, trying to think how to phrase things. “I know I’m good, but I don’t know if I have a future as a fighter, you know? You have to be great to be a fighter and I won’t know about that until I’ve had a couple of pro fights – I know I’ve never been knocked out so I’m pretty good.”

He looked around, taking in the surprised looks on Peter and the others. “Apart from that, I do some computing – I’ve sold a couple of games, not huge but getting there, you know? And I have had some interest in buying a few apps I’ve been working on but you never know where that’s gonna end up. To be honest, I don’t think I’m going to figure it all out tonight, so for now, I’m just gonna spend as much time as I can hanging out with Derek.”

The silence felt strained, no one seeming to know just what to say. Stiles was saved by a knock on the door, smiling nervously at Deucalion, Kali and the other woman who’s name he had never managed to catch as Derek and Peter went to the door. 

There were two men outside, both dressed in slightly ill-fitting suits. They looked official and Stiles stepped forward, curiosity overcoming his manners.

“Hello – how may we help you?”

“Mr Peter Hale?”

“That’s right – what can I do for you?” Derek stepped back, coming to stand by Stiles. 

“I’m Mr Deaton and this is Mr Ennis. We’re special agents of the Internal Revenue Service and we’d like to inform you that you are under criminal investigation for the tax years 2012 through 2018.” He stepped into the house when Peter moved back in obvious shock, looking around with eager eyes.

“What – I live in a palace? What the hell – I have _guests_ here!” 

Agent Deaton nodded towards everyone, before turning back to Peter.

“Understanding the following rights – “

“Speak to my God-damned lawyer!”

“So you’re refusing to answer my questions?”

“Just come to my place of business – how dare you come to my home like this!” 

Deaton seemed unperturbed by Peter’s obvious anger, simply nodding his head before turning back to the door. He looked back as he stepped outside. 

“Mr Hale, please be aware that we will be contacting a number of your business associates – “

“This evening is over. I would like you to please leave.”

“ – and your niece, Laura Hale.” Peter slammed the door on whatever else Deaton had to say, turning to look wildly at everyone with a twisted snarl on his face. Stiles looked down in shock as he felt Derek take his hand, but he gripped back, holding on tightly. Jesus.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun!!!


	10. Chapter 10

**DEREK**

Derek fiddled with the tableware, wondering just when it was that he had become unable to sit comfortably with his sister.

“Laura – please.”

“Derek – I have a history with Uncle Peter and it’s not the greatest, you know? I never wanted to involve you or make you choose sides, so – “ Laura looked uncomfortable for a moment before her expression smoothed over and she smiled at him. “Is it so bad that when I finally get to spend some time with you without Peter that I want to hear about my baby brother?”

“This **is** about me – or it involves me!”

“You know, I don’t even know if you’re dating! The last thing you really told me was that you liked boys more than you liked girls!” 

“I just wonder what could be more important than what’s going on with Uncle Peter. Don’t you care?” Derek looked imploringly at his sister. “What happened all of those years ago?”

“If we could just talk about boys, things would be so much easier. That was a really tough time, Derek, and I don’t think anything will be served by dragging it all up now.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “You know, your room is always ready for you – you can come home with me.”

She looked into his face, obviously reading his expression. “Alright, fine, what do you want me to do?”

“Just – if they ask you questions, and they probably will ask you questions, would you _please_ say something nice about him? Be positive – help him, if you can. No one will tell me what went on back then and no one is talking to me now, but surely you can do that, right? Just – help him.”

“Alright.” Laura looked across the restaurant, suddenly sitting up straighter in her chair. “Oh, here’s Connor. Just talk to him please because when you don’t, you have resting murder face!”

Derek scowled but managed to give a weak smile when Laura’s partner arrived at the table. 

“Well hello there! Derek – it’s good to see you again. I hear congratulations are in order.”

“Hi Connor – nice to see you again.”

* * *

**STILES**

“So, after work?”

“I usually have a break after dinner service, if you want to stop by.”

“So, maybe later than that?”

“Stiles – I know you think my job is strange.” Derek sighed down the phone. “You don’t like old people, do you?”

“Me? Heck, sure I do.” Even to himself, Stiles sounded unconvincing.

“Come on – truth.”

“Fine, well, except for one thing. Like I used to work at a smorgasbord and the old people would just steam in, you know, they just **loved** to eat. And they would jam their mouths full of food, you know? Like, more than even Scott can fit in and you would not believe the sheer amount of food Scott can cram into his mouth! But they would eat with their mouths open and somehow it all just got too much for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It just got me thinking – like, about how short life is – and how maybe you wake up and it all has no meaning – and you spend your life making things or selling things, or just frying burgers right? And then suddenly you’re sixty or seventy or whatever and like – what are you even doing with your life? And – well, I just don’t need to be thinking about that kind of stuff cos it sends me into a spiral.” There was silence from the other end of the phone and Stiles wondered if Derek had hung up on him. Lydia was always telling him that his mental ramblings could get to be too much. “So, that’s the reason I was, you know – hesitant? But I’m not sure I’m right about any of that because sometimes my brain takes me down paths that make no sense.”

“I think that’s ageism – or maybe that you’ve not spent time around old people in the right environment. And you know, maybe the mouth thing is that their mouths don’t work right and they can’t help that.” 

Stiles was stunned that Derek seemed to have followed his stream of consciousness and tried to think about what Derek had said. 

“Okay, well – maybe you could be turning me around here. No one else has ever really followed when I tried to explain that before.”

“Yeah? Not Scott or Lydia or Erica?”

“Nope. They kinda tune out when I ramble – you’re the first person to listen and help me try to change my way of thinking.” 

“Cool.”

“So – I can come by later – after your meal break.”

“Yeah – come by later. I’ll try to find some old people you can meet who won’t scare you shitless.”

“Ha-ha, lap it up, dude! I am fearless – well, most of the time anyway.”

“Okay. So later?”

“Yeah. Bye.”

“Bye Stiles.”

* * *

Strangely enough, Stiles actually has a good time. Derek introduced him to a number of the residents, who were all eager to chat to someone who hadn’t already heard their stories. He met a writer of erotica and left that conversation embarrassed but with several book recommendations that he thought could be _interesting_. He met Mr Taylor who always dressed up on visiting days even though his family don’t come to see him any more – he insists on entertaining any kids that are bored and wandering around with magic tricks that he promises to share with Stiles. Stiles even gets to sit with Derek and watch ‘Cocoon’ which one of the residents had chosen as their movie of the night, joking that it was a guide to escaping nursing homes and maybe they shouldn’t let Derek in on their plot to escape.

Walking out at the end of the evening, he holds Derek’s hand, quietly enjoying being at his side. He sees Peter Hale working in one of the side rooms, a frown marring his handsome face as he shuffles through some paperwork. Stiles isn’t quite sure why he feels like he’s got away with something when Peter doesn’t seem to see the two of them walk by. 

“So – was it as bad as you thought it was gonna be?” Stood by Stiles’ jeep, Derek looked a little tired but also relaxed. 

“Nope, it was actually a lot of fun. I think you need to watch out though – they definitely have plans to cocoon their way out of there the first chance they get.”

“I think we’re safe from the residents disappearing into outer space.” Before he can talk himself out of it, Stiles stepped closer to Derek, his breath catching in his throat as Derek looked him straight in the eye. “Does this mean you’re finally gonna kiss me, Mr Stilinski?”

“I was thinking about it.” 

“Just thinking about it?”

“Well, I’ve had quite a few thoughts about it actually. Where would be the best place to try – whether it needs to be memorable or just kinda ordinary because it’s going to be a regular thing.” Derek reached for his hand and Stiles held on tight, nerves making his stomach flutter. 

“I think it’s going to be memorable wherever it is.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Leaning forward, Stiles placed his lips gently onto Derek’s, keeping it soft and gentle.

“That was kinda memorable, but maybe you could try again.” Derek was speaking against his lips and Stiles smiled, enjoying the sass that was coming out of Derek more and more. 

“Okay, I can try and make this one a little more memorable. Better hold onto that mega-brain you’ve got in that head of yours – wouldn’t want to blow your mind.”

“Oh, challenge accepted.” Stiles had never kissed anyone while he was smiling but he decided he enjoyed it. Derek tasted of mint and coffee, his lips were soft even as they clung to Stiles’ own, and their fingers were entwined tightly. Before he stepped back, Stiles slipped out his tongue, flicking Derek’s lip and making him gasp.

“I think I’m gonna call that a win and head home.” He stared into Derek’s face, watching as he opened his eyes and blinked a few times as though waking up. Up close, he could see the many colours in Derek’s eyes – the green, the brown, the honey gold – whatever colour they were, they were beautiful.

“Goodnight Stiles.”

“Goodnight Derek.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would have been my Dad's birthday today, so I'm feeling a little melancholy. So, rather than burrito under my duvet, I think I'm gonna spend the day writing. Which means, you guys might be kinda innundated with notifications. Sorry not sorry x
> 
> * * *


	11. Chapter 11

**DEREK**

Derek never realised he could be so happy and yet so sad at the same time. Stiles was always there, ready to spend time with him even if it was just having coffee and Derek needed that release. Everything at home was so up in the air. He was meant to be getting ready to go to England, but how could he leave when his Uncle Peter was under investigation and was so obviously stressed out? But this was his future – this was everything he had worked for his entire academic career – should he give that up? Could he give that up? He tried talking to Stiles about it, hoping for another perspective.

“I feel so bad being with you – I feel selfish like I should be spending more time with my uncle. I mean, this isn’t fair to you because half the time I’m with you, I’m thinking about everything else.” They were sat in a small run-down cafe, huge mugs of steaming coffee on the table in front of them whilst they watched the rain falling outside. The place was empty apart from Derek, Stiles and the waitress who was clearly more interested in her magazine than anything that was going on. 

“It’s okay – everyone does that.” Derek watched as Stiles’ doctored his coffee for him, just the way he liked it. It made him smile but also made him feel conflicted.

“I just – I just don’t want it to get too heavy because I already feel so overloaded! But then, I spend time with you doing the stupidest things like being on the swings in the park or just having coffee, and it makes me feel so much lighter – like I can cope with all the heavy stuff because I have this stuff too. You know? Or am I making no sense?”

“No, you’re making sense. Everyone needs a release valve, a way to decompress. And I’m more than happy to be that for you – help you relax when everything else is too much. I don’t want to add to the shit in your life, Derek – I want to be an escape from it, if only for a short while.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have a social life for a while – maybe I should be at home with Uncle Peter helping him sort out this mess of paperwork.”

“And maybe you can’t help him because you’ve not been involved in that side of things. I get the feeling your uncle has all of that pretty much under control.”

“Yeah, he can be a real control-freak but I’ve never seen him like this. He’s so angry all of the time – sometimes I just want to run away, like Mom and Laura. And then I feel guilty because he’s been there for me, has done so much for me.”

“You know, we don’t have to be social. It can be like today – we can be anti-social together. Just the two of us – we don’t have to involve the outside world.” Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand and they twined their fingers together.

“Stiles – maybe we should just be friends? You know – not let this go any further?” Even while he was saying it, Derek realised he had dragged his chair closer to Stiles’ sliding his leg between Stiles’ spread legs so that he could feel his body heat. “Just – I don’t need something else to worry about in my life.” 

“Friends.”

“Yeah.” Derek leaned forward, kissing Stiles gently. It didn’t feel like enough so he did it again, lingering this time, enjoying the taste of coffee, enjoying the taste of Stiles. The kiss deepened, their bodies straining towards each other even while they stayed in their separate chairs.

“Friends with potential.” Staring into those whisky brown eyes, Derek sighed hopelessly. He couldn’t let this go – this felt like the one thing in his life that belonged solely to him and had nothing at all to do with the tangled Hale history. 

“With potential.”

* * *

**STILES**

“You want me to teach you to drive in a Camaro?”

“Stiles – “

“In a Camaro, dude.”  
  
“Don’t call me dude. And it’s not a big deal. Uncle Peter got it cheap and had it converted. It might look like a stereotypical muscle car but it really isn’t.”

“A bit like you – sex on legs on the outside, cuddly marshmallow on the inside!” Derek laughed and Stiles considered that a win – he would do anything to make Derek smile lately.

“Yeah, okay, something like that. So, will you? Teach me to drive stick I mean? I can drive an automatic and I have my licence but Uncle Peter was going to teach me but with everything that’s going on – “

“No, I can teach you! I just wonder if we should maybe use the Jeep to start with – you know, cos it’s already covered in dents and messed up paintwork.”

“Are you implying I’m going to cause dents? Or scrape off paintwork?”

“I call it as I see it, Derek!”

* * *

The roundabout outside the nursing home seemed like a safe place to practice – no other cars to distract Derek or be damaged by his driving attempts. Sat in the passenger seat of his Jeep, Stiles spoke in an encouraging tone.

“Yeah, just keep going in first – slow and steady while you get the feel of the clutch and everything. Can you feel that – when you put it in a little?”

“Yeah – I think so! Are you sure we should be doing this in your car?”

“Better this than that beautiful Camaro – less damage all around!”  
  
“STILES!”

“Okay, okay, you’re not that bad! Straighten the wheel a little. Okay – you’re gonna try for second gear – are you ready?”

“I think so.” Stiles winced as the car made a horrible sound and juddered, weaving slightly. 

“Okay, back to first. Then when you feel the car start to, like, give, you put the clutch in and change gears – yeah, just like that!”

Derek looked triumphant and Stiles decided even the death of Roscoe would be worth it to be put that expression on his face. He cleared his throat and tried to concentrate. 

“Excellent – now we’re gonna do the reverse. Or rather, the opposite – no way are you ready for reverse! We’re gonna downshift into first. Are you ready?”

“This is scary as shit! Am I wrecking your car? Seriously!” 

“No, no – this is good!” Derek brought the car to a halt, turning to face Stiles. “See, look what you did? First and second gear and then back to first – we’ll have you driving that beauty of yours in no time.” They stared at each other, the proximity caused by the Jeep making everything seem slightly surreal like they were in a world of their own. 

Stiles was sure he lunged at Derek, but somehow he was being pressed back against his seat as they kissed, seatbelt restraining him when all he wanted to do was hold Derek as close as possible. It felt like the world was tipping and Stiles suddenly realised the car was rolling forward. He quickly yanked at the handbrake, forcing the car to halt. 

Derek was breathing heavily, his eyes slumberous as he continued to stare at Stiles.

“We should switch – you wanna switch?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah – we could get out of here, maybe go for a drive?”

“That sounds really good.” Instead of doing the sensible thing of getting out of the car and walking around, they struggled to move past each other in the vehicle, climbing over the gear stick, moving over and under each other until they have managed to swap seats. Derek pulled on his seat belt then sat back, saying nothing.

“Anywhere you want to go?”

“Somewhere we can be alone.” Stiles gulped, then nodded. 

“Okay – I can do that. I can make that happen.” Jamming on his seatbelt, Stiles put the Jeep into gear and roared out of the nursing home car-park, knowing exactly where he wanted to take Derek.

* * *


	12. In Your Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is called [In Your Eyes](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kU8OJAOMbPg) by Peter Gabriel - hopefully this time the link works but if not, check it out - it's a beautiful song.
> 
> * * *

**STILES**

Stiles didn’t think he’d ever forget the song that was playing, how it made him feel or what it was like being with Derek. The drive up to the Preserve had been quiet but fun – Derek held his hand as they drove, chatting about nothing. He’d found a lovely space near a copse of trees – it was a good job he was driving his jeep because he wasn’t sure Derek’s Camaro would have made it.

Parked up, the radio playing in the background, he couldn’t say which of them decided being in the back of the Jeep would be more comfortable. But somehow, that’s where they were – initially just holding each other and listening to the music. Then Derek looked at him, seemed to be searching his face for something. And then he leaned over and kissed Stiles. 

It felt different from their other kisses, seemed to have more intent. Derek didn’t tend to initiate things and Stiles was determined not to push. It was Derek who opened his mouth and slid his tongue tentatively into Stiles’ mouth, Derek who pushed Stiles gently to the lie down in the back of the Jeep; Derek who rucked up Stiles’ plaid shirt and tee-shirt to lay kisses all over his chest; Derek who fumbled slightly with Stiles’ belt before finally pulling it undone; Derek who stared into Stiles’ eyes while he unbuttoned and unzipped Stiles jeans. 

“You’ll have to tell me if I do this right – I’ve never done it before.” 

“I’m not exactly Mr Experience here dude, but I’m pretty sure anything – hoo, yes, that – “ Derek licked the top of Stiles’ dick, holding it firmly in one hand while he gently squeezed Stiles’ balls in the other. It was all that Stiles could do not to thrust up into that hot, wet mouth as Derek sucked him in, cheeks hollowing. “Jesus Christ – “ He grabbed the headrest to stop himself putting his hand in Derek’s hair, fist pressed into his mouth as he tried not to scream at the sensations Derek was pulling from him. “Derek – “ 

“You like that?”

“Yes – oh my God, yes – “ Stiles closed his eyes because watching Derek doing what he was doing pretty much guaranteed that he wouldn’t last sixty seconds, letting his head fall back onto the seat. But he wanted more – he wanted to touch Derek, to make him feel the same mind-blowing sensations that Stiles was experiencing. “Stop a minute – stop please.” 

Derek pulled off, his lips wet and swollen-looking, eyes heavy-lidded. 

“I want – I want to touch you too.” Derek nodded, somehow managing to look shy and debauched at the same time. Manoeuvring around in the back of the Jeep wasn’t easy, but somehow they managed to get into a position where Stiles was able to undo Derek’s jeans and tug them down, holding his dick so that it jutted out almost obscenely from his boxers. Stiles had done stuff with a few guys (and girls), but he hadn’t been lying when he told Derek that he wasn’t the most experienced of people. But he wanted this to feel good, for Derek to feel good, so he just did what he thought he would like himself. 

The atmosphere in the back of the Jeep was heated, the only sounds muffled moans and groans as they learned what pleasured the other. Somehow, Stiles was straddling Derek’s lap, both of their dicks engulfed in one hand, pumping furiously whilst Derek was nipping and biting at his neck, jaw and upper chest. A world all of their own, just the two of them, until lights and sparks went off behind his eyelids and he was coming all over his hand, Derek’s dick and stomach, feeling as though he was turning inside out. Gasping for breath, barely able to focus, he still managed to keep his hand moving, watching the way Derek’s mouth dropped open, the way his eyes widened, feeling the tight grip on his thighs as Derek went over the edge, his dick pulsing in Stiles’ hand. 

They used an old tee-shirt to clean up, tossing it onto the floor of the Jeep. Not wanting the night to end, not sure how he was feeling, Stiles found an old blanket that he didn’t even recall having in the car and they snuggled under it as they recovered. Stiles found himself being the little spoon on the narrow back seat – it felt weird but nice.

“Are you comfortable?” It almost felt wrong to speak, even quietly.

“I’m fine.” Derek tugged him closer beneath the blanket, his strong forearm resting against Stiles’ stomach. “Are you shaking?”

“No.”

“You’re shaking.” Stiles realised he was, but he didn’t feel cold. This all just felt – _momentous_. He felt vulnerable, too raw and open, closing his eyes and pressing his face into the seat beneath him. 

“I don’t think so.”

“Are you cold?” More blanket was shovelled his way. 

“No – I’m not cold.”

“Then why are you shaking?” Stiles turned his head and looked into Derek’s concerned face. 

“I don’t know – I guess I’m just – happy.” Derek smiled down at him, then lowered his head and gave Stiles a gentle kiss on the lips. 

“Me too. This is a good song – listen to the song.”

* * *

**DEREK**

Derek let himself into the house, wincing at the noise the keys made as they jingled. All of the lights were off and there was no sign of his uncle downstairs, so he crept up to his room, relieved. Walking into his room, he turned on his lamp, tossing his cell onto his bedside table. He turned, jumping what felt like a foot in the air when he realised that Peter had followed him into his room.

“Morning.”

“Uncle Peter! You scared the shit out of me!” Avoiding his uncle’s gaze, Derek stripped off his jacket and went to the wardrobe to hang it up. “I’m sorry.”

“You god-damn should be!”

“I was irresponsible – I should have called, let you know I was going to be out late.”

“You bet your ass you should have called! You still live at home – as far as I know, although you couldn’t tell it by the amount of time you spend here!” Peter walked around the room agitatedly. “Don’t make me call the police at three-thirty in the morning – don’t make me have to call hospitals wondering if something has happened to you!”

“I’m sorry, Uncle Peter. I know this is a bad time.”

“You have **always** called before.” Peter took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm down. “Look, Derek, I’m not asking what you did – I just want to know that you’re alright.”

Keeping his back to his uncle, Derek could feel the soft smile crossing his face.

“I’m fine.”

“Do you want to make things easier for me? Help me understand why you would change, why you would be so irresponsible! Just – tell me where you were because this is bullshit! Derek – you can say **anything** to me, you know that!”

“I know that – I’ve always known that.” Hanging his jacket in his closet, Derek turned to face his uncle. “I spent the night with him.”

“With _Stiles_?” Peter looked incredulous and suddenly Derek wanted him to understand, to see Stiles the way that he did.

“Do you know what he did the first night I went out with him to that party? We were walking back from the Seven-Eleven – we’d _literally_ just spent hours making sure this drunk kid got home safely. Anyway – he pointed out some glass for me to walk around.” Peter looked confused, and Derek moved to his bed, sitting down while he tried to marshal his thoughts. “I always think of that when people say things like _’What are you doing with Stiles Stilinski?’_ He is – he’s gentle and kind and funny. I never get nervous around him – whatever I say, whatever I admit to – he just, he gets me. So, you know, we started spending all of this time together – just as friends – and he’s just so _easy_ to be around! We can sit in silence or we can talk for ages about the weirdest shit! And you know, we’ve kissed a few times and I was starting to worry that he’d want things to get physical – you know, move to the next level? And with everything going on, with going to England, I just – I didn’t think that was a good idea.”

Peter nodded, seeming to approve.

“And I did what you taught me – you know, went through all of the reasons and arguments why getting closer was just not a good move, strategically speaking.”

“Did he get rough with you? I know he does that martial arts stuff – did he try anything?”

“No – God, no! But – I decided that I didn’t want any problems so I wasn’t going to sleep with him.”

“That’s good – that’s a sound decision, Derek.”

“But then I jumped him anyway!” Derek laughed and then glanced over at his uncle, who was looking stunned. “It felt right, you know? Special and just – not about cold facts, analysis and strategy. It was just about how we were both feeling.” Derek let his head fall back, feeling like a weight had lifted from his shoulder. “God, it always feels so much better telling you the truth – thank you for letting me share this with you, Uncle Peter. You’re right, I can say anything to you.”

“Yes – yes, of course you can. I’m pleased for you nephew. I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

**STILES**

Erica, Scott and Lydia came into the music shop, Scott eating an ice cream cone. Stiles nodded at the store-owner, Mr Courtney, to let him know he was taking a quick break, then went to the drum set that was in the corner. He just used it for messing about, but Mr Courtney said people always came in when Stiles was having fun on the drums and he made more sales, so win-win.

“Hey, guys.”

“So – did you sleep with him?” Lydia slapped Erica on the shoulder but looked interested in his reply nevertheless. Scott was too busy with his ice cream.

“I admit nothing.”

“Come on, Stiles – this is us!” Erica pleaded, stepping away from Lydia to avoid the second slap aimed her way. That didn’t stop Lydia from giving him an assessing look. 

“Look at his face!”

“Oh my God, you did! You slept with Derek Hale!”

“Will you keep your voice down for goodness sake?!”  
  
“Good God, you give hope to men everywhere! If you can get Derek Hale, maybe Scott will be able to get past _hello_ with Kira!”  
  
“Hey! We’ve been on a date and everything – I’ve got past hello!” 

“Go back to your ice cream, Scotty.” Tucking the drumsticks by his side, Stiles turned to Erica and Lydia. “Alright, look, calm down! Nothing’s different.”

“I beg to differ! You had sex – you shared one of the most intimate experiences between two people – well, generally between two people.”  
  
“I’m not stupid, Lydia – I know it’s not nothing. It just doesn’t have to mean everything. I’d still be with him even if we weren’t having sex. Not saying that we did!”  
  
“Well, if you **did** have sex, you better do something special. You’ve got to make a statement – show him that you respect him, that you’re not like – “

“If you say Aiden, I swear by all that’s holy I will pull out your hair by its strawberry blonde roots!”

“But you know I’m right, Erica. This is big.”

“Yeah, but not everyone behaves like Aiden so maybe you should stop trying to make Stiles pay for what Aiden did. He’s a douche-cannon but you gotta let it go.”

“Fine, so you think he should, what, just ignore it.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Well, what are you saying?”

“Er – Erica, Lydia?”

“I’m just saying – “

“You do realise Stiles is trying to say something don’t you?” They all turned to look at Scott who had finished his ice cream and was searching his pockets. “I just thought maybe you could, like, let him speak instead of talking over him.”

“Sometimes, Scott, you are a mastermind – thank you. What are you looking for?”

“I need a Kleenex – I got ice cream down my shirt and it’s making my nipples cold.” Laughing, Stiles grabbed some tissues from the box behind the counter, grabbing a piece of paper at the same time.

“So, go on Stiles – dazzle us!”

“Don’t pressure him – Stiles doesn’t always work well under pressure!”  
  
“Just – send him some flowers, a letter – something!”  
  
“I already did.”

“What?”

“I sent him a letter – sent it snail-mail and everything because I thought an email might seem too casual.” Both women looked at him, obviously impressed. “Wanna read it?”

“You kept a copy?”

“Well, I wrote it out a couple of time because my handwriting sucks sometimes. This is one of the drafts. You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to!” Stiles collapsed in giggles when Erica began tickling him, while Lydia grabbed the piece of paper from his hand. 

“Am I allowed to read it aloud?” Finally able to stop laughing, Stiles wrapped his arms around Erica and nodded. 

“Sure – it’s just my innermost thoughts and feelings, but you guys probably know them already!”  
  
“With a smile, Lydia opened the letter and read it aloud.

> Dear Derek,
> 
> I just wanted you to know that the other night was special to me. I’ve never felt as much as I do when I’m with you – you make me want to be a better person.
> 
> I’ll always be there for you  
> All the love in my heart  
> Stiles

They stood in silence and Stiles began to feel nervous.

“I’ve never gotten a letter like this – have you?” Lydia asked Erica, who had buried her head in Stiles' shoulder. She took a deep, heaving breath and lifted her face and Stiles saw that there were tears in her eyes.

“No, but I dream about it.”

“So what do you think? Is it okay – do you think – “

“Stilinski, you make me wish I had taken you at your word in first grade when you said you loved me.”

“Whoa, Lydia!” Lydia walked over and Stiles opened his arms, holding both girls tight.

* * *

**DEREK**

“Derek, you here?”

“In here Uncle Peter.” Derek shoved his letter into his journal when Peter came into the room.

“Your ticket to England arrived today.” Derek looked at the envelope in Peter’s hand as if expecting it to bite him.

“Uncle Peter – I’m not sure – maybe I shouldn’t go with everything that’s happening to you.”

“What? You’re definitely going – don’t be ridiculous Derek.”

“I don’t think I’m being ridiculous. If I had a friend in the same position, I would tell them to consider delaying for a year.”

“You’re going and that’s final. Where is this coming from?”

“It just – it doesn’t feel right to me! I don’t even have the right luggage yet!”

“That has got to be one of the lamest excuses I have ever heard!” Peter pulled one of the chairs from the side of the room and sat down. “Derek – what’s going on?”

“You’re not even listening to me – what if _I’m_ not ready to go?”

“This isn’t smart thinking.”  
  
“Why won’t you even consider the possibility that I might have some idea of what’s the right thing for me?”

“Do you love him?”

“What? What makes you think this is about Stiles?” Peter gave Derek a look and he knew he was blushing. “I like him – a lot.”

“Well, listen to me. Now, I understand that you like him. I know he’s nothing like those frat boys you can’t stand, but Derek, after the excitement wears off, then what? What are you going to talk about? What on earth do you have in common with someone like him? You’re going to be part of an International Think Tank and he’s going to be using his elbows and knees on a punching bag!”

“Uncle Peter! Is this because of the other night?”

“I just think that maybe you should consider breaking up with him.”

“What? Why? This is unbelievable – I’m living a nightmare!”

“Derek, you owe it to yourself to get onto that plane with no attachments, no strings, because after you get there, things are going to change. People change. Don’t let personal feelings hold you back.”

“Uncle Peter, I **told** you – Stiles and I talked about this. This is well-covered territory. He knows how much the Fellowship means to me and he wouldn’t want me to hold myself back.”

“Then he’d agree with me – that you should go.” Peter looked satisfied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a slim box. “I’m not asking you to sever all relations with the boy. Give him a present – let him know you care. I got this.” He handed Derek the box and he held it, looking from the box back to his Uncle. This wasn’t a spur of the moment thing – Peter had been out and bought Derek a gift to give to Stiles. 

Opening the box, Derek looked down at its contents.

“Never in a million years would I give Stiles a pen – why won’t you believe that this is coming from me, not him?”

“Because until he came into your life, you never once lost sight of the end-goal. And suddenly, you spend the night with him and you’re talking about not going to England? What else am I meant to think, Derek?”

“Maybe that this might not be what I actually want to do.” Peter slammed his hand down on the desk, getting to his feet.

“Seriously, enough of this talk. You’re acting like a love-sick teenager. Just – give the boy the present and move on.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” Realising from the look on his Uncle’s face that he was on the verge of losing his temper, Derek back-tracked a little. “What’s wrong with having some fun? I like him.”

“You like him? Derek – I have always taught you to be honest with people – to be decent. What if the boy – “

“Uncle Peter, I love him!” Peter stopped dead, staring at Derek with disbelieving eyes.

“Great. No, seriously, that’s great.” Peter dry-washed his face, looking sad. “Am I being selfish? I just want you to have everything we’ve worked so hard for. Is that wrong? Look, I owe you an apology – obviously, all of this stuff that I’ve got going on is preying on my mind and I was using this as something to look forward to, seeing it as a bright light in our lives. I’ve only got a few weeks left with you and it’s – look, don’t give it another thought, Derek. Lord knows, one of us should have some happiness in their lives, right? These guys – this Deaton and Ennis – think I’m guilty, and I was just – whatever, it’s not important. I’m going to go and wash up for dinner.” 

Patting Derek on the shoulder, Peter left the room. 

Derek sat at the desk, looking between the pen Peter had given him and the letter from Stiles.

* * *


	14. Chapter 14

**STILES**

“Power left, power right – “ Stiles smiled happily as he taught his class. They might only be six to eight years old, but they put everything they had into their practice with him. “Looking good, looking good!”

In the distance, he heard the phone ring but paid it no attention – anyone who wanted him could grab him on his cell after the class. 

“Hey, Stiles – telephone.” Surprised, Stiles directed the kids to continue their practice and went to the office. He grabbed a towel on the way, wiping at his brow and face. 

“Hello, this is Stiles.” 

“Hi, Stiles – it’s Derek.”

“Hey – how are you doing?” He felt nervous – he hadn’t seen or spoken to Derek since he mailed the letter, but he assumed that it had reached him by now. With all of the studying Derek was doing and the different part-time gigs Stiles had going on, it had been a few days.

“I’m fine – good actually. I hope this was okay – I got the number from your brother. He said you teach Martial Arts to kids there?”  
  
“Yeah – can you imagine, they pay me to do this stuff? It’s fun actually – the kids are great and it means I get to use the gym for a discount so it’s all good.”

“That’s great, great.”

“Is everything alright?” Derek had been extremely stressed with everything going on with his uncle and he sounded like he’d had a bad day.

“Um – are you free tonight? Could you come get me?”

“Yeah – yeah sure. I have another class after this but I could be there in about two hours if that works?”

“That would be great. Yes – please.”

“Okay, well I’ll see you in a couple of hours. Bye.” Derek hung up without saying anything else and Stiles stood holding the phone for a few minutes. Whatever it was, he and Derek could sort things together – of that, he had no doubt.

* * *

Stiles had taken the time for a shower before driving to pick Derek up in the Jeep so he was slightly late. Nevertheless, Derek seemed oddly quiet when he climbed into the vehicle. Thinking that maybe the other man needed some space to marshal his thoughts, Stiles drove around for a little while. Derek said nothing, staring out of the window whilst tapping his fingers on his legs. Unable to take the silence any longer, Stiles pulled over onto the side of the street, turning off the engine.

“You should check your mail tomorrow – I sent you a letter.” Derek nodded but didn’t turn to face Stiles. “An actual letter – not just an email. You should be impressed – I didn’t even know people still sent letters.”

“Your letter came yesterday.” 

“Oh. It did?” Derek nodded, finally turning to look at Stiles.

“Yeah – it was – it was wonderful.” Somehow, Derek didn’t look like someone who had received a wonderful letter.

“You should have sent me a text or whatever – let me know it got there okay.”  
  
“It did. And – really, it was wonderful.” Beginning to worry, Stiles started babbling.

“I’ve never sent a letter like that before, you know? I mean, I don’t think I’ve actually sent a letter-letter since I was a kid because my Mom and Dad used to make us do thank you notes – like, write them out and post them to people! Most kids just got to make a phone call, but my Dad is kinda old school and said if people could spend their money buying us gifts, the least we could do was acknowledge it in actual writing rather than text-speak or a quickie phone call!”

Derek didn’t laugh, now looking down into his lap.

“I mean, I felt like I wanted to tell you something, but I didn’t put it into the letter but, I want to say it now. I’m not sure I should say it because I know people use it all the time and don’t always mean it, but I’m pretty sure I mean it, so um, I just wanted to tell you – “

“NO! We don’t need to say it.” Derek looked distraught.

“How do you know what I’m going to say?”

“I don’t! I mean, I don’t know what you’re going to say, but I think that – “

“I was just going to tell you that I love you. There. I said it.”

“I know. Stiles – let’s not start to put things on this level.” Stiles wasn’t sure what he had expected Derek to say, but that most definitely wasn’t it.

“What level? This is a good level, isn’t it? It feels like a good level.” Derek tilted his head back against the headrest, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“How the hell can I look at you and say this?”

“Say what? You know you can say anything to me, Derek.” Derek flinched, looking even more unhappy if it was possible. Stiles leaned over, and kissed him quickly, hoping to make him smile but instead Derek’s face seemed to crumple for a moment. “Derek – “

“I think we should spend some time apart.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well – I need to study, and – “

“You need to study? I thought you had been studying while I was working. Do you need more time to study, because I promise I can be quiet if you wanna study at my place? Or I could come to yours.”

“That’s not – that won’t work.”

“Okay, well, how much time do you need? I mean, you know, you’ll be leaving in a little while so – “

“We’ll see. I can’t – I can’t put a ballpoint figure on it.”

Stiles sat back in his seat, confused even whilst nodding. Derek had gone back to staring out of the window and not knowing what else to do, Stiles turned the engine back on and drove back to Derek’s home.

“Okay, so – it’s good knowing this.”

“Yeah, uh-huh.” Coming to a full stop outside Derek’s house, Stiles turned the engine off and turned to look at him. 

“Okay – just to clarify – what did we just decide?”

“We decided – “

“Because I’m gonna be honest here, Derek, I’m worried – did you just break up with me?” Derek turned to look at Stiles, tear-tracks on his cheeks.

“No, no – that’s not – “

“It kinda sounded like you did.”

“No – I – we decided that we’re friends.” Derek looked at him pleadingly. “I mean, I know it’s a terrible word – or everyone treats it like it’s a terrible word but – “

“Well, if we’re friends, why can’t we see each other?”

“I just think that maybe we should stop going out on dates.”

Stiles couldn’t seem to make himself comprehend what was happening – it was like Derek was saying one thing whilst meaning another. He tried to gather his thoughts, going over what Derek had said. 

“Was I the only one in this? Because I thought – “ He looked over at Derek who looked like he was going to be sick. “Oh my God, I feel like such a dick. You must think I’m a dick.”

“No, that’s not it at all – I don’t think that.”

“I thought we were building something – that – but you haven’t – “  
  
“Stiles – we shared something so incredibly intimate, something I’ve never shared with anyone else – “

“But you just want to be friends. Friends who don’t see each other.” Stiles leaned back against the door of the Jeep, stunned. “Jesus Christ, I am some special kind of idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot!”

“Is this because of your uncle – because of all the stuff that’s going on?”

“No.” 

“Then I don’t understand! I just – did you talk to Erica? Or Lydia?”

“Why? Did you tell them what happened?”

“I didn’t tell them – they figured some of it out. I’m sorry if that upsets you – if that’s why – “

“No, that’s fine! No doubt, Erica will tell everybody, but that’s fine.”

“Did **you** tell anybody?”

“Just my Uncle Peter.”  
  
“You told your Uncle Peter?”

“You have Erica, Scott and Lydia – I have Uncle Peter!”

“Sorry, no I didn’t mean it like that – I just – please, Derek, I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on!” Stiles tugged at his hair in frustration.

“Stiles – I love you.” There were the words he wanted to hear, but the tone of voice was not.

“What is that – why did you say it like that? Please, Derek, just **talk** to me!”

“Don’t be angry, Stiles – this is hard for me too.”

“Then don’t do it! I mean it, Derek – I am _begging_ you – whatever is going on, we can sort this out! Please, just – “ He tried to reach for Derek’s hand, flinching when Derek pulled back. He closed his eyes tiredly, head falling back onto the headrest. 

The silence in the car thickened and took on a life of its own. Stiles didn’t know what to say – he just didn’t understand – why would Derek be saying he loved him if he was breaking up with him at the same time? He turned as he felt Derek move, watching as he took something out of his jacket pocket. 

“Just – take this pen, please and write me?” Stiles’ mouth fell open, completely unable to believe what was happening. When he didn’t reach out and take it, Derek slid the small box onto the dashboard of the Jeep, then climbed out, walking hurriedly into the house. Stiles sat there, staring at the pen, completely unable to comprehend what had happened. 

How had the day that had started so well ended so incredibly badly?

* * *

Stiles looked around, realising that somehow he’d driven to the local Seven-Eleven and parked in a quiet corner. His eyes felt gritty from crying, and it had begun to rain. He looked at his watch and realised how late it was. Robotically, he pulled out his cell and called Isaac.

“STILES! Where the hell have you been? Where are you?”

“Hi Isaac. I – I don’t really know where I’ve been – driving around maybe?”

“Are you okay? Stiles, what’s going on?”

“He broke up with me.” Stiles hiccuped, trying not to begin crying again. “What do I do? How do I get him to come back? I can’t think – my brain feels waterlogged. Can you just – talk to me? I must have fucked up somehow – I can’t stop crying.”

“Stiles – “

“He gave me a pen. I gave him my heart and he gave me a pen.”

“Come home, Stiles. Just come home.”

* * *


	15. I gave him my heart and he gave me a pen...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, lots more heart-break and angst...
> 
> * * *

**STILES**

Stiles doesn’t remember getting home, seeing Isaac or getting to bed. The next thing he’s even vaguely conscious of is that he’s on the couch, with Camden sat next to him, watching TV. An advertisement for the Army is showing and Stiles wonders what his Dad would think of it all.

* * *

Sat in his car, driving around that night, Stiles uses his hands-free to call Lydia. He knows Erica will be with her, so it kinda kills two birds with one stone. It goes to voicemail and before he realises it, he’s talking.

“It’s me. Sorry, I haven’t called you lately – I don’t actually really know what day it is. Sorry. I’ve just been – trying not to think about this whole Derek nightmare.” He turns a corner, vaguely recognising the road as one he’d driven with Derek that night so long ago when they were trying to get Theo home. “By the way, I hardly remember him – I’ve wiped him from my mind. I don’t remember the time or place when I knew him.”

He drove a bit longer, coming to a stop at some traffic lights, realising too late that it’s another remembered site.

“Hey look, this is it – the site of our controversial first date – or non-date. I met him at the Mall and we ate.” Stiles watches people walking in and out of the Mall, jolting when a car-horn goes off behind him and he realises the lights have turned while he’s been sat there. “I shouldn’t have sent him the letter. I think I know too many girls, you know? Maybe if I hung out with more guys – I could be more like them? Less likely to do sappy shit that fucks everything up. Actually, that’s not a bad idea – I think I’m gonna go ask those guys – you know the ones that hang out at the Gas ’n’ Sip for some advice – they must have some answers, right?” 

Ending the call, he drives through the evening light, coming to a stop at the Gas ‘n’ Sip. He climbs out of the Jeep, ignoring the rubbish that falls from it when he opens the door. He can’t think of the last time he cleaned it out. He walks over to where there are a small group of guys against a wire fence, drinking and eating snacks. It turns out to be Aiden and a couple of guys that Stiles doesn’t know but he doesn’t let that stop him. As soon as they see him, their faces change and he realises that the news has obviously spread.

”Stiles – no one has seen you in an age! Listen, I’ve been through this shit with Ethan. No guy – or girl – is worth this, you know? Hang with us – we’ll teach you!”

“I don’t know, Aiden – your track record with dating is – “

“No, listen, he’s right! You can’t trust people with your heart, man! They just spend your money and they tell their friends _everything_ ”

“Do I even know you?”

“Knowledge is knowledge, even if you don’t know the source.” Aiden resumed speaking.

“Man, I tell Ethan this all the time – all you gotta do is find someone who looks just like him, nail him, then dump him – that’ll get him off your mind!”

“But what if – “

“No – you can’t be thinking like that! Your only mistake is that you didn’t dump him first! Derek Hale is just a – a pretty show pony! You don’t need that in your life – you need a stallion! Walk with us and you walk tall!”  
  
“I don’t even understand half of what you’re saying!” Stiles looks at the three of them, at the cheap-ass beer in their hands and considers for a moment. “I gotta ask you guys something – and I need you to be honest, okay?”

“We can do that – can’t we fellas?”

“Thanks. If you guys know **so** much about dating and relationships, how come you’re here at like, the Gas ‘n’ Sip, completely alone, drinking beers, with no-one you care about anywhere in sight?”

There was shocked silence as the three guys looked back and forth at each other, and in other circumstances, Stiles would have smiled. But not tonight.

Aiden was the first to recover.

“By choice, man – we’re here alone by choice!” 

“Yeah – by conscious choice!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyway, Stiles – we’re going to a kegger. You wanna come? You might find someone to take your mind off Derek, you know what I’m saying?”

“Shit, Aiden – I am **never** going to meet someone like Derek Hale at a kegger! This guy was different – we’d go out, we wouldn’t even have to go out – we’d just hang out! He made me feel like – he made me feel like I could trust myself! He was the first real person to look at me and say yeah, sure – go do your Muay Thai, build your games – you can do this! He even followed me when I rambled – do you have any idea how rare that is? To find someone who can follow you when you go down the rabbit-hole of conversation? Can you imagine that? And then he cuts me loose and I have zero idea why! I mean – maybe it’s because of his uncle. Who knows the real reason because he wouldn’t tell me. He wouldn’t even look at me.”  
  
Unable to contain his pain and anger any longer, Stiles picked up one of the empty beer bottles on the ground and throws it against the fence where it smashed. Aiden and his friends got up, stepping back from Stiles. 

“Dude, you need to chill!”  
  
“Like, come on!”

“Christ, Stiles – what is happening to you? It’s hanging around with that bitch, Lydia – “

“Don’t you even say her name! I don’t know why I came here – you guys know less than I do.” With one last scornful glance, Stiles strode back to his car and drove away.

* * *

Lydia gave him a judgey look when he turned up at her place but she let him in. He isn’t even remotely surprised to find Erica there too and it looks like he interrupted a girls’ pamper evening.

“Sorry, I just didn’t know where to go – I can leave you to it.”

“Don’t be stupid, Batman. Sit down – Jesus, you reek of beer!”  
  
“Not mine – I was at the Gas ‘n’ Sip and there was a spillage.”

“Uh-huh.” Stiles avoids Lydia’s shrewd gaze, falling onto the couch. He zones out as Lydia and Erica go back to doing manicures and pedicures, vaguely aware that the TV is on but with no idea what he’s watching. 

“STILES!”

“You don’t have to shout!”  
  
“Obviously I do because this is the fourth time I’ve called your name!” He shrugged. “Look, why don’t you just call Derek again?”  
  
“Erica – “  
  
“No, seriously – the only person who has the answers you’re looking for is him.”

“Nope. I draw the line at seven un-returned calls.”

“Stiles – you have to understand that his family is being ripped apart.” Knowing how much her parents’ divorce had devastated her, Stiles could see that Lydia was trying to help him understand.

“Then why won’t he let me be there for him?”

“Maybe you just have to accept that he doesn’t want you to be? Sometimes no just means no, Batman.”

“I know that – I do! I just – “

“Maybe you could visit him at the home? Sort of neutral territory?”

“I’m not going back there. I don’t even know who you guys are talking about.” Lydia scowled, and he yelped in pain when Erica kicked him in the leg.

“Why do you have to be like this?”

“Because I’m a guy. And I do have some pride.” Erica kicked him again, and he pulled his legs up onto the couch, out of her range. 

“Listen, Stiles. You are not, and have never been, a _guy_.”

“I am too a guy. I have the dick to prove it.”

“The world is full of guys. Be a man. Don’t be just another guy.” Lydia nodded in agreement but Stiles refused to budge. 

“If he wants me, he knows where to find me.”

* * *

**DEREK**

Going over his packing list, Derek looks up when the land-line rings. He doesn’t expect it to be for him – he turned his cell off days ago and no one ever really calls for him. Peter doesn’t get up from his seat on the couch and the answering machine kicks in, the record light flashing.

_“Hi, Derek. This is my eighth and final call – “_

“Go ahead, Derek, pick it up if you want to.” Derek looks over at his uncle, biting his lip nervously. This was the reason he had turned off his cell – he couldn’t take any more of the heartfelt calls from Stiles. Stiles continues speaking on the answering machine. 

_“ – I just wanted to say that I’ve given this some serious thought – you know, everything that happened to us, how it all went down. And – I’ve decided to give you another chance.” He laughs sarcastically.” Maybe no one is even listening? Or maybe your uncle is listening. Mr Hale, if you’re listening to this – hello, how are you? I’m pretty shit but hey, them’s the breaks.”_

“If I pick it up, we’ll only get back together. A clean break is best.”

“Well then, don’t pick up. You know best, nephew.” Derek nodded at his uncle, listening as Stiles continues speaking.

_“I’ve been thinking that maybe I didn’t know you – I mean, who knows anyone, really? Maybe you were a mirage. You were always a little too good to be true – too good to be with me anyway. I mean, maybe there’s a good side to this and I just can’t see it yet. I don’t know. I’ve been doing some soul-searching, you know? Why am I telling you all of this, right? I mean – you’re obviously not interested. You’re probably standing there, monitoring, wondering why this loser won’t take the hint. So – yeah, just one other thing. If you wouldn’t mind – and then I swear I won’t bother you again. The letter, the letter I wrote you? Could you please – as a favour to me – just rip it up? Nuke it, flame it, destroy it. It – it hurts to know it’s out there. Will you do that for me and in return, I will never bother you again? Thanks. Later. Or not. You know. Bye.”_

Unable to bear the anguish in Stiles’ tone for one more second, Derek rushed to the phone to pick it up.

“Hello?” The engaged tone sounds and he realised that Stiles has hung up. Tears springing into his eyes, Derek puts the receiver back in place, whispers goodnight to his uncle and goes to his room.

* * *


	16. The net is closing in..

**PETER HALE**

The boutique seemed to have quite a nice range of luggage and Peter was pleased he had listened to Deucalion’s recommendation. The sooner Derek was packed up and ready for England, the better – he couldn’t stand by and let the boy waste his life on someone as useless as the Stilinski boy. And it wouldn’t look strange to anyone if he decided to follow Derek to England – a fresh start seemed to be in order for both of them.

Peter looked up as an assistant approached him, her eyes lighting up when she sees the set he is examining. They’re expensive but appearances are important – Talia had never understood that.

“Good afternoon, sir.”

“Good afternoon.”

“Is this a gift for your wife? Or girlfriend maybe?” Well, he wouldn’t award her points for subtlety, but checking out the long legs on display in the short skirt she was wearing, Peter decided he really didn’t mind.

“No, it’s for my nephew actually.”

“Oh really? For going to school?”

“Yes – he won a Fellowship and is going to study abroad. I want to show him I respect his hard work and commitment, send him off in style. I’ve been his de facto parent since his Mother left, so – “  
  
“Oh how charming! It’s so rare to find someone who values family!”  
  
“Family and the family name means everything to me.” Peter smiled and made up his mind. “I’ll take the whole set.”

“Oh, well, that’s excellent!” He followed her to the cash register, where she rang up the purchase. He barely acknowledged the total, merely pulling out his wallet and choosing which card to pay from.

“I gotta tell you, you’ve got the best smile I’ve seen all week!”

“Well, I like your smile too!” He handed over his card, flipping through the gift-cards in front of the cash register. 

“Listen, I don’t know your name, and perhaps this is a little forward of me, but what are you doing for lunch?” Just as she’s about to reply, the card machine gave a beeping sound. 

“I’m so sorry – sometimes the machines can be temperamental.”

“No worries.” She ran the card again and once more, the machine gave a beeping noise.

“I’m so sorry – they turned down your card.”

“Oh yeah – no problem, let me get you another card.” Choosing another card, Peter handed it over.

“Thank you.” Peter put his hands into his pockets, waiting for her to put the card through the machine. This time the beeping sound was longer and seemed louder. 

“I’m so sorry – I’m afraid I can’t accept this one either. There’s a decline code on your account.” She looked embarrassed. “I’m supposed to confiscate your card, but why don’t you just go ahead and take it? I’m sure there’s just been a minor mix up – “

“No, that’s okay – keep it.” Stepping away from the desk, Peter stumbled slightly over one of the display units. 

“Are you sure? I mean – “

“Yeah, no – it’s fine. I don’t want it. Thank you very much – you’ve been very kind.” Tugging his jacket into place, Peter gave the assistant another smile before leaving the store.

* * *

**DEREK**

Unable to study, Derek decided to go to bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he had gone to sleep without crying lately, but he was still half-convinced he was doing the right thing. Uncle Peter seemed to be unravelling, alternating between wanting to know everything that Derek was doing to completely disinterested. 

Derek had returned the previous evening to find his uncle locked in the bathroom. It had sounded like he was crying, but when he came out later, he had acted as though nothing was different.

Lying down on his bed in his basketball shorts, Derek thought he could hear music. He couldn’t imagine where it was coming from – he wasn’t playing anything, and Peter wasn’t home. As the sounds drifted in through his open bedroom window, he realised he recognised the song that was playing – it was ‘In Your Eyes’ by Peter Gabriel and it was the song that had been playing that night in the car with Stiles.

Getting to his feet, Derek walked to his bedroom window, keeping to one side so that he couldn’t be seen from outside. He thought he would never forget the sight that greeted him in his entire life: Stiles was stood by his parked Jeep, holding a boom box high about his head in both hands. Where he had found an old-style boom box, Derek had no idea, but there he was – arms in the air, playing what could be their song if only Derek was free to make his own choices. 

The curtains fluttered and Derek had a clear view of Stiles’ face – he had grown facial hair since they had seen each other last, and his normally spiked hair was long enough to be a little floppy, softly curling around his neck and head. He looked leaner than normal and maybe a little tired, but all Derek wants to do was escape the madness his life had become and run to Stiles.

Instead, reluctantly, he closed his window.

* * *

Adjusting his tie, Derek shifted around on his chair. The office was air-conditioned but Derek could feel that he’s sweating and he’s worried that he’s starting to look wrinkled and it will affect how they view him. Uncle Peter has always told him how important appearances are and he’s hoping that he can present a calm exterior, despite his inner terror.

The secretary takes a call, then looks over at Derek. 

“Regarding Peter Hale.” Derek jumped to his feet, walking over to her desk. “If you’ll go through that door, Mr Deaton is in room 14 and will see you now.”

Derek followed her directions, opening the door to find the dark-skinned man who had turned up at the house sat behind a desk.

“Good afternoon, Mr Hale. How can I help you? Please, take a seat.”

Sitting down, Derek gathers his courage and begins to speak. 

“Mr Deaton – I’m supposed to be leaving on a fellowship that I worked for my entire life. And – I don’t even care. I met this boy over the summer and I – I can’t see him because of this. I can’t talk to him, I can’t talk to my Uncle Peter about – I wore these clothes because I thought if I looked right, and acted right that someone would talk to me. But I am slowly losing my mind and I just need someone to tell me what the hell is going on? So could you be a little decent and just – talk to me? Please.”

Deaton gave Derek a look that seemed to contain genuine sorrow, and he nodded before opening a file on his desk. 

“Mr Hale – “

“Please, just call me Derek. Hearing Mr Hale makes me look around for my uncle.” Deaton smiled and nodded.

“Okay, Derek. We believe that your uncle operates in a large pool of cash that comes from phoney billings, phoney patients. We’ve been investigating him for over five years – longer if you consider the previous investigations involving your mother. We believe that when your residents die, your uncle takes their money.” 

“Pardon me?” Derek is stunned, unable to comprehend what Deaton is saying. 

“Look – this isn’t something out of the blue. You should check it out for yourself – see if your uncle fits the profile.”

“What profile? You’re making him sound like some kind of criminal!”

“Okay, look just – take a look around your house. Is everything nice, but not _too_ nice? Are there lots of, uh, rugs, pieces of art, stereo equipment, uh, furniture – a lot of things bought with cash? Does he give a lot of gifts? Do the major items in your house come in at around nine thousand dollars?”

“I don’t understand – you’re trying to get me to say something, incriminate him somehow – that’s why you’re telling me all of this!”

“Derek, you came to me. We already have all of the corroborating information that we need. We haven’t involved you simply because we haven’t needed to.”

“I can’t believe what you’re saying!”

“Can I give you a piece of advice? You’re obviously an intelligent young man, perhaps a little naive. But – don’t let your uncle’s business infect your life.”

“ _Infect?_ You make him sound like poison or disease! How can you say that?”

Deaton sat back in his chair.

“Because he’s guilty.”

“No – no he isn’t! You’re wrong!”

“We have records. We have proof. We have witnesses. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it’s going to get worse. Now, if I were you, I would take that fellowship and get as far away from your Uncle as you can.”

“You’re wrong! I don’t know what I thought I was going to achieve coming here but – “

“I’m truly sorry Derek.” 

The absolute worst thing about it is, he does look sorry.

* * *

When Derek gets home, he stands by the front door, listening to hear if his uncle is there.

“Uncle Peter?” There’s no answer, so Derek assumes that his uncle is out. Taking a seat, he looked around the room – seeing things with new eyes. The furniture; the jukebox; the audio-visual equipment – all of it not quite top of the line but still obviously expensive. 

Derek stared at a photo on the mantel – it’s himself and Peter at his graduation. It’s not a casual picture – Peter had organised a professional photographer – but they look good together and it makes a handsome family portrait. 

Unable to sit still any longer, Derek went from room to room, searching through drawers, looking for something, anything that might corroborate what Agent Deaton had said. He can find absolutely nothing and he sits down heavily on the chair in his Uncle’s study, feeling sick.

“Jesus, they made me doubt you – after everything you’ve done for me, they actually made me doubt you.” Dropping his head into his hands, he tries to compose himself – this is ridiculous. He gets to his feet, about to leave the room when he sees a wooden box on the bookshelf. It’s nothing particularly special, but Uncle Peter had liked the triskelion engraved in the top. Before he can stop himself, Derek has picked up the box and tried to open it. It’s locked and he considers for a second if he really wants to do this. But Deaton had been so sure – 

Grabbing a letter opener from Peter’s desk, he managed to pry open the box. Inside, there are several bundles of cash – large bundles. Just like Deaton had intimated. Deaton was right – Peter was guilty.

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

**DEREK**

Derek knew he was breaking the speed limit, but he needed to get to the retirement home. He needs to ask his Uncle Peter for the truth and he needs to know now. He can’t continue this way, not any longer. He walked through the reception area, not registering if he sees anyone – he knows where his uncle will be, and as expected he’s in the kitchen preparing some fresh flowers. 

Swiping tears from his face, Derek shuts the door behind him as Peter turned around.

“Derek – what happened to you?”

“Uncle Peter – I need you to be honest with me, I need to know the truth. Did you do it? Did you take the money?”

Peter grabbed a towel to wipe his hands, frowning.

“Derek, no! What a ridiculous suggestion!”

“Swear to God – I need to know the truth! Swear on something you believe in, something that means something to you! Swear on the family name that you didn’t do this!”

“Derek – “

“Swear to God!!”

“Derek – I swear to God.” Peter stepped toward him but Derek took a step back, unable to believe that his uncle has lied so blatantly to his face.

“But I found the money.”

“What?”

“I went into your study – I found the money!”

“Derek, look – it’s not what you think!”

“What am I supposed to think?”

“About what? Derek, you’re not making sense!”

“You **stole** from them! You **lied** to me! How do you think that’s supposed to make me feel?”

Peter folded his arms across his chest.

“You think you know what this money is?”

“Yes, I – “

“No, you **don’t** know what it is. It’s not for me. This money’s for you, for when you come back from England with honours to set you up! It’s so you don’t have to depend on anyone ever again, that you’re free to do whatever you want to do. We can do so much good together Derek.” Peter sighed exasperation. “Derek, I take better care of these people than their families do! I care for them, I give them flowers, I feed them – I make sure they feel happy and appreciated and – “

“But you **STOLE** from them!”

“I made their lives better! How many of them don’t even have family that visit them any more? Here, they can feel human, cared for, which is a lot better than they were getting from their so-called families!”

“Jesus, you let me believe you! You knew you were guilty – you knew all of this time and you let me become a part of it! God, how – how could you do something like this – “

Peter gave an angry snort, pacing. “Fine – go ahead, judge me. But when I’m old, give me someone like me rather than those people who claim to be family, who claim to care about you then disappear at the first sign of trouble.”

“I _trusted_ you! When Laura asked me to go with her, when she said we could have a fresh start away from all of this, I listened to what you said about family sticking together! Oh my God!”

“Why are you painting me out to be some kind of villain? Why are you being so hateful to me when all I’ve ever done is be there for you? Is this because of Stiles? Because if it is – “

“NO! This has nothing to do with Stiles! This is about me – about what a complete fool I’ve been, how I’ve fallen for all of your lies! I told you everything and you lied to me – I would have done anything for you!”

“Fine – spew it all out, let it go. Then maybe we can move past this.”

Derek stared at his Uncle, shocked that he seemed to think this was some little thing that they could move past.

“Move past this? You’re a liar and a thief – “

“Careful just how bad you make me out to be – I’m the only **real** family you’ve got!” Peter stopped pacing and came to stand in front of Derek. “Derek – we can talk about this, sort things out. England can be a fresh start for both of us.”

Disgusted, Derek turned and ran out of the room, ignoring Peter shouting his name.

* * *

In all the time they dated, Derek had never seen Stiles fight. Standing to the side in the gym, he watched with awe as Stiles kicked, punched and pummelled his opponent. Watching him, Derek can well understand how he has never lost, has never been knocked out. 

Stiles is all lean muscle, a flurry of motion as he dances around the ring; the new facial hair and slightly shaggy look to the longer hair on his head making him look wild but also sexy. He almost didn’t want to interrupt, but the guy who had been at the desk when Derek arrived was already moving closer to the ring.

“Hey, Stiles – someone’s here to see you.”

Stiles looked up and over at hearing his name and his opponent takes the opportunity to kick him in the face, knocking him down and out.

“Jesus, Stiles!” Derek rushed to the side of the ring, watching as the trainer climbs into the ring swearing and goes to Stiles. Several of the other people training have stopped and are staring, although they quickly return to their activities rather than meet Derek’s gaze. When he turns back to the ring, he winces as the trainer is in the process of snapping Stiles’ nose back into place with an audible click. Stiles is conscious again at least, giving Derek quick looks around the people gathered to see to him. Someone hands him a towel and he holds it to his bleeding nose as he gets to his feet and climbs out of the ring. Derek went over to him, wincing once more at the blood on Stiles’ face.

* * *

**STILES**

“Stiles?”

Stiles moved past Derek, his ears still ringing. His face felt like one giant ache and he could taste blood in the back of his throat. He is going to get all sorts of shit for this – finally knocked out because he’s distracted by an ex. An ex that is following as Stiles makes his way to the changing rooms. He needs some privacy if Derek intends to yank his heart out of his chest a second time. 

“Stiles, I’m sorry.”

Feeling weary, Stiles made his way to his locker and sat on the bench, holding the towel to his face. 

“Derek – what do you want?”

“I – I’m so sorry.”

“Just – tell me what you want.”

“My uncle’s guilty. He lied to me, he lied to _everybody_. I just left home and – I need you.”

“You do?” Stiles almost hates himself for the hope that rises in his chest. 

“Everyone else means nothing to me. I – if I hurt you again, I don’t think I could live with myself.” Derek is hovering close by, wringing his hands. 

“Hurt me again? Not a chance – don’t worry about it.”

“I love you.”

“What?”

“I said, I love you.” Lowering the towel, Stiles watched warily as Derek stepped closer, sitting next to him on the bench. He takes the towel out of Stiles’ hand and begins to gently wipe the blood from his face. Stiles can’t stop himself from staring, taking in the dark circles under Derek’s eyes, the fact that he’s lost weight, how sad he looks. “How many more times do I need to say it?”

“One more time would be nice.”

“I’ll tell you as many times as you need. I love you – I have been such a blind idiot and I will do whatever it takes to make things better. I love you.” Dropping the towel, Derek cups Stiles’ face in his hands and begins to lay kisses all over his face. For a moment, Stiles lets him, luxuriates in being with Derek like this again. Then he pushes him away.

“One more question – you’re here because you need _someone_ or ‘cause you need **me**?” Derek doesn’t look away from him once, eyes steady and sincere. “Forget it, I don’t care.” Leaning forward, he kisses Derek with all of the longing pent up in his heart.

“I need **YOU**.”

* * *

They go to sleep wrapped around each other in Stiles’ bed.

* * *


	18. Not everybody gets a happy ending.

**STILES**

The drive to the prison has taken over 45 minutes, but Stiles is just relieved he managed to convince Derek to come. Peter Hale had been convicted, his assets stripped, the retirement home had been turned over to the State, and along with a fine, he was serving 15 months in jail. Derek had refused to see his uncle from the time they had been reunited at the gym, and Stiles hasn’t tried to force him. However, it’s more urgent now, so with much wrangling, kissing and a little blackmail, here they are. 

He watched as Peter Hale was brought out to him, looking completely different in a prison orange jumpsuit. He gives Stiles a confused look before taking a seat at one of the tables.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

“Warden Valack served with my father for a time, so he let me in as a favour.”

“What do you want Stiles?” Peter sounds weary.

“He wouldn’t get out of the car. I brought him all the way here, he said he would come in but then he wouldn’t get out of the car. But I thought that it was important, that he come to see you, because I know that if you go somewhere and you don't deal with your family shit, then you're just gonna, he's gonna, um...”

Peter let Stiles stutter to a halt before giving him an assessing look.

“Are you going to England with him, Stiles?”

“That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about, sir.”

“Please stop calling me sir.”

“Sorry.”

“Well, go on – talk. Are you going to England with Derek?”

“Am I going? Am I going to England? I’ve thought about this quite a bit, and I’ve realised what I probably should do is just carve out a goal for my future, find out what I wanna do with my life, do all of the shit I’ve been avoiding in a _big_ way. I mean, Derek and I can wait for each other, you know? What’s he gonna do – he’s gonna run off with some English guy? There’s just no way!”

Peter looked surprised.

“Well, I admire you for not hitching a ride. And I won’t even insult you by implying it has anything to do with the fact that the money has all gone – even I can see that your interest in Derek had little or nothing to do with money.” Peter gave Stiles another look. “You know, my nephew is very different from you.”

“I know that.”

“He’s very successful – his future is incredibly bright and he deserves to fly as high as his intelligence and drive can take him.”

“I know that too.”

“Very talented.”

“Do you have a point you’re wishing to make, Mr Hale?”

“I’m just trying to make sure you realise that the only limitations on Derek are those he imposes on himself. Or are imposed on him by those he associates with.”

“Right, I see.” Stiles looked Peter in the eyes. “I know all of that, maybe more than anyone else I know what Derek is capable of. But you see, _after_ I thought about Derek and I splitting up and making our way back to each other, I reconsidered. Because you see, we’ve already split up and made our way back together again. Why should I keep fighting what seems to be fate? And I figured out what I really wanna do with my life, what I want to do for a living, is I wanna be with your nephew. I’m good at it. My fighting, my games – they can all happen while I’m with him. But they don’t happen so good when I’m not.”

Peter gave Stiles an ugly scowl, his face whitening.

“You’re not a permanent part of his life. You’re a distraction – you’re nothing.”

“Derek doesn’t seem to think that I’m nothing. And I’m the distraction that’s going with him to England.” Peter jumped to his feet, fists clenched and the guard who was stood off to the side cleared his throat loudly. “Are you okay, sir?”

“Do I look like I’m okay? I’m incarcerated, Stiles! I don't deserve to have you as my go-between. And I can't for the life of me figure out how he could choose to champion in mediocrity the way he flirts around you.” Obviously fighting his temper, Peter turned away and Stiles took the opportunity to remove a letter from his jacket pocket. 

He gave Peter a few minutes before he spoke again.

“I have a letter from your nephew – do you want it?”

Without turning around, Peter held out his hand and Stiles dropped the letter into it. He watched as Peter opened the envelope and began reading. Nervously, he waited for a reaction.

Peter whirled to face him, looking at him, then back to the letter incredulously.

“I don’t know which version he sent.”

Peter began to read aloud:

> _"You can't know the horrible disappointment I feel..."_

“Oh, I know this part – keep reading.”

“He can’t _still_ be angry at this – it’s gotta get better!”

“It does – if it’s the one that ends _”after everything you’ve done for me, I can’t stop loving you”_ , it does get better. Keep reading.”

“It’s just his name.”

“Oh. Well – just knowing that such a letter exists has to make you feel better, right?”

Peter looks like he’s about to explode but then looks over Stiles’ shoulder, so he turns around. He can see that Derek is walking towards them so he steps over towards the guard to give them the illusion of privacy. He can still hear what’s being said though.

“Hello, Uncle Peter.”

“Hello, nephew.”

“I don’t know what to say to you. Stiles insisted that I come and say goodbye, but – “

“Then why don’t we simply leave it as goodbye?” Derek nods then steps forward. Stiles holds his breath, hoping that Peter won’t reject Derek and breathes a sigh of relief when he opens his arms. The guard gives him the side-eye and he shrugs – all he wants is Derek to be happy. 

“You could have told me the truth. I don’t know if I would have understood but I would have tried.”

“I think it’s too late for that, Derek, but thank you. And for what it’s worth – I’m sorry.”

“It’s worth a lot.” Derek steps back, holding out the pen that he had previously given to Stiles. “I love you, Uncle Peter. Write me.”

Knowing that the moment is over, Stiles gives the guard a small smile, then steps forward to lead Derek back towards the main building. He’s aware of Peter’s eyes on them the entire way but he doesn’t look back.

* * *

**DEREK**

The fingers of his right hand are tapping nervously on his thigh and the old lady sat on his right gives him a sweet smile that he feels too nauseous to return it. There is a noise and he stiffens, turning to Stiles on his left, who grabs his hand.

“Wing adjustment.” Derek nods and squeezes Stiles’ hand through everything as the flight takes off. “It’s like a roller-coaster – almost everyone likes roller-coasters, right?” 

He gives Stiles a look, knowing full well that Stiles is aware that Derek does not like roller-coasters. What feels like another hour passes.

“Blink twice if you’re fine.”

“Ha-ha – I’m not quite mute with fear yet.”

“Still haven’t told me if you’re fine.” Stiles still has slight black eyes from his broken nose and has dressed as a hobo for the flight. He told Derek that every item he wore was the most comfortable thing he owned, but Derek just thinks Stiles was too lazy to get dressed.

“I’m fine. Really.” Derek knows the death grip his has on Stiles’ hand belies his statement, but he does have some pride.

“Okay, good – this is all very normal.” There is another noise and the plane shakes slightly. Derek turns to look at Stiles who smiles at him. “Very standard for a seven forty-seven.”

“Okay.”

“Alright, high-level air safety tips. If anything happens, it’ll happen usually in the first five minutes of the flight, right?”

“If this is meant to be reassuring – “

“ - so when you hear the smoking sign go ‘ding’, you know everything’s going to be okay.”

“Stiles – they don’t allow smoking on flights any more.”

“I know that – but for some reason, they never got rid of the ding! Ask anyone!”

“Fine – good to know.”

“Right – well, I’m just gonna keep talking until we hear that ding, okay?” Derek smiles.

“Okay.”

“Oh – personalised flight care package from Erica and Lydia. Scott still hasn’t forgiven you for taking away his best bud. We have books, magazines, contraband American candy that you can’t find in England. Want anything?” Derek shook his head. 

“Not right now, thanks.” Stiles nodded, then shoved the bag full of goodies down towards his feet. A surge of gratitude goes through Derek, and when Stiles sits back up, he kisses him, ignoring the humph from the old lady on his right. 

“How’s it going?”

“Nobody thought we’d do this. Nobody thinks it’s going to work, do they? I know Isaac tried to talk you out of coming with me.”

“Meh, what does anybody else know? You just described every great success story. It’s alright.”

Staring into Stiles’ face, Derek realises that it really is.

“I know.” But even so – “Where’s the ding?”

“Any minute now.” A baby starts to cry and Derek can feel a slight hint of panic begin to rise. “Honestly, any minute now.”

Stiles has begun to shift uneasily in his seat and Derek wonders if it’s too late to sail to England. “Any second – “

DING!

* * *

fin

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating this from the 80s was harder than I thought it would be! I had to lose entire characters and a lot of stuff that was okay then is definitely not okay now! But it's done! I hope you enjoyed it
> 
> Skar  
> x
> 
> * * *


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